Tell Him Something Pretty
by Rather-Wonderful
Summary: CHAPTER SIX: Zoe and Lola discuss boys over a smoke. Pete realizes he may be in love much to his dismay. Pinky presides over the lavish additions made to the girl's dorm. Zoe realizes she may be in love much to her delight. Gary wakes up.
1. Inauguration

STORY: Tell Him Something Pretty

AUTHOR: M.

SERIES: Bully / Canis Canem Edit

SUMMARY: A complete interpretation of Gary Smith's personal war on Bullworth Academy. Pre/through/& post game. (Epic.)

RATING: Rated T for a tiny and/or titanic bit of coarse language and references to sexy sex.

DISCLAIMER: The characters and/or places herein are not public domain. The author is not accepting funds for the publication of this work.

_Tradition. Nepotism. Struggle. Controversy. Bullworth, New England, is a city that embodies all of these things. Its a fairly large suburb but it can be easily mapped into four key sections. First is Old Bullworth Vale, it rests cradled by the coast line and its streets move and curve with the land making it popular with the well-to-do. Among other things there is a picturesque lighthouse, a stately park, and a traveling carnival that never seems to go away. It is a very unique old village, you see. Should you travel down the winding roads you'll reach the vale's ugly step sister, Bullworth Town. The town is host to several lackluster attractions which include a second hand clothing shop, town hall, and an abandoned movie theatre. Word is it won't be long before it becomes like its neighbor, New Coventry. New Coventry is little more than a railroad yard with public housing festering around it. The crime here is immeasurable and it also happens to be the choice meeting place for the city's harder brand of youth. Moving through the back alley's of this place inevitably leads to the underbelly of Bullworth, The Blue Skies' Industrial Park. Like most places that are inappropriately named there is nothing sunny about this place. It is home to several warehouses and factories (some haunted) and is where the city's dropouts live their lives. Seeing how it is a sad and lonely place only a handful of people live here; in matchbox trailers I might add. Now, imagine if you will, traveling from the vale into town, then down to New Coventry and on through to Blue Skies; you would eventually come to heart of the entire city; its pride and main appeal, Bullworth Academy. The academy is a first rate boarding school that accepts students for superior high school education. It boasts a healthy mixture of social classes from the young proprietors of Old Bullworth Vale to the sullied greasers hailing from New Coventry. There is far too much to be said about Bullworth Academy then I care to venture here, however, it can be summarized in four simple words: Tradition, nepotism, struggle, and controversy. Welcome to Bullworth._

_**one **_Inauguration

His head hurt.

A crackly recorded track of school bells played over the intercom of Bullworth Academy. In ten minutes the freshmen welcome address would begin and the headmaster would grace the auditorium full of new students with his inspirational presence and words of motivation. Some students were keyed up and eager to begin their high school endeavors. Others had already made up their minds that this school and everything about it was going to royally blow and were discussing how to best outwardly illustrate this fact. Nerds were sharing their time tables and preps were gossiping about what clothes everyone had chosen to show up in, however, everyone was breaking into factions, sniffing out those like themselves and forming vital alliances that would serve to protect them throughout the school year.

That is all except for one.

He wasn't sitting alone per say. He was neatly sandwiched between two other teens that had obviously assessed that he was not of their kind. He busied himself with the contents of his book bag, making sure everything he wanted to be there was there. Books. Paper. Pencils. Medication. All was well.

"Hello."

It was an unfamiliar voice uttering an equally unfamiliar greeting. Peculiar but not uninteresting. The boy glanced up without bothering to turn his head in the speaker's direction. He judged his interloper's appearance in two point five seconds. In a word: small. Too small to be entering high school and definitely too small to be normal. No other notable physical features to speak of. Style of dress was the typical school uniform that everyone else wore, but with a pink shirt, that was new. Most telling of all was that this kid was talking to him meaning he hadn't merged into any other prominent cliques himself. Evaluation complete: This guy was a total loser.

"My name's Peter. Pete. Kowalski. "

The kid, Pete, shifted from one foot to the other in a manner that was no doubt suppose to come off as nonchalant but just served to demonstrate how nervous he was.

"You have three names?"

Pete looked suddenly surprised, as if the fact that someone responding to him was astonishing. Then he looked happy.

"Oh. No, no. It's just Pete Kowalski. Sorry about that, ha ha…"

_Lame_.

As Pete stood there trying to laugh the other boy went back to rummaging through his bag. A solid five minutes passed before Pete cleared his throat and spoke again.

"So, uh… what's your name?" he murmured staring at the floor, clearly on the verge of giving up, going away, and quite possibly crying. He quickly took two steps back when the other boy dropped his bag on the floor with visible irritation, and gingerly turned to meet his startled stare.

"…Gary. Gary. Smith. It's just Gary Smith. Ha. Ha."

* * *

Sometimes it was hard to get rid of unwanted attention, but today it had been exceptionally easy. Pete had run off as soon as Gary had divulged his name. The look of terror on his little adolescent face as Gary looked him in the eye was so hilarious it was almost clichéd; like a scene from a B movie when the bad guy takes off his mask and something bone chilling is revealed underneath. As Pete had backed up and turned away Gary had called after him, "What? Is there something on my face?" He smiled and deftly touched his face above his right brow where a shallow but evident scar marred his otherwise unintimidating appearance.

"May I have your attention please?"

The entire auditorium was startled to attention; a middle-aged woman had appeared on the stage with the grace and stealth of a ninja. Everything about her was polished and professional but if one studied her long enough her skirt would be deemed too short for that of an educator; like she had something to prove. She waited with little patience for the shushing to subside. "Very good. I am Miss Danvers, keeper of the office, and welcome to Bullworth academy. We would like to begin by introducing you all to our illustrious faculty. Please be silent and remain seated for the duration of the introductions."

One by one professors and teachers, each more boring than the last, filed into the room after being announced by Miss Danvers and took a seat in the row of plastic chairs behind her podium. Things almost got out of hand with the male students at the reveal of a one Miss Phillips, the art instructor, but the arousal was swiftly quelled by the introduction of the school's cafeteria cook.

When the final faculty member was seated Miss Danvers cleared her throat and took a deep breath as a wistful smile played across her face.

"And now students…good coworkers…All rise!" she cried throwing her arms into the air as if she had just found God. "It is my great honor and privilege to introduce you all to the man who will be leading you by your noses down your paths to academic prominence here at Bullworth. Ladies and gentlemen, the incomparable headmaster of our school, Dr. Crabblesnitch!"

There was a round of clapping and a round of laughing. Gary, who had tuned out almost twenty minutes earlier due to boredom, snapped back to reality just in time to laugh at the headmaster's name.

"Thank you, thank you all,' Crabblesnitch said as he approached the podium and gave everyone permission to be seated. 'The worthy Miss Danvers has said it already, but welcome to Bullworth. This is it, children. You are in the home stretch of finishing your school years and emerging functioning members of our community. Here at Bullworth we are dedicated to making sure you do not deviate from the path that has been laid out for you. By enrolling here at Bullworth you have been given great opportunities to excel that other children can only dream off. Remember our school motto 'Canis Canem Edit'! Dog eat dog! You must rise above the obstacles before you and become, as they say, top dog of academia."

Crabblesnitch paused to slam his hands on the podium causing the skittish and those who simply weren't paying attention to jump. Gary was unfazed and continued to stare at his hand, where he had raised one finger for each time Crabblesnitch had said "Bullworth" so far.

"You all are starting here with a clean slate. It is my gift to you to celebrate your induction as freshmen. Any mischief you may have engaged in before coming here is locked away in your permanent records and will only come to light if you stray from the Bullworth way." He turned and swept a hand over the front row the auditorium where four young men in indigo blazers were set apart from the freshmen student body.

"Bullworth's senior prefects are constantly vigilant and any sign of nuisance will not be tolerated and will instead be dealt with swiftly and effectively. This is your first and only warning to keep your nose clean.' Some of the freshman audibly yelped and blew their noses into their sleeves or programs. 'Or we'll clean it for you."

* * *

After threatening the freshman student body Dr. Crabblesnitch had continued into along speech about the history of the school saying more with his hands then with his words. When he had finally left the stage and Miss Danvers had stopped shedding tears of awe she released the students to prepare for their first day of high school which would begin at nine a.m. the following morning.

Dodging around the crowded courtyard, Gary had found an ideal spot for respite from the last arduous hour in the shade of an apple tree. It was well out of the way of the crowds and not conspicuous as it was on a raised plot of land bordered by rock facings. Again he carefully took out the contents of his book bag and laid them all on the grass in front of his knees. Four text books, four notebooks, 4 sharpened pencils, and one bottle of medicine. He carefully touched each object slowly when he counted as if one of what he was seeing might be an illusion. Reaching into his pants pocket he fished out a neatly folded piece of paper baring the Bullworth Academy insignia. He re-read it carefully:

**Dear Student,**

**It is our pleasure to welcome you to our school. When you arrive at our gates you are expected to be in uniform. The order forms were sent out at the end of June. If you did not receive your form or your uniform does not fit properly you can buy/exchange at the school store located on the first floor of the main building. Below you will find your autumn semester schedule.**

**Student: Gary Smith**

**Class of 20XX**

**Class Rotation Agenda**

**[Mon, Wed, Fri]**

**9:00: Geography 01 : Matthews**

**13:00 Biology 01 : Slawter**

**[Tue, Thur]**

**9:00 Math 01 : Hattrick**

**13:00 English 01 : Galloway**

**Be sure to purchase the appropriate text books and supplies that will be essential for participation in each class. The list of the supplies you will need is enclosed in the envelope of this letter. We look forward to seeing you at the Freshman welcome banquet at XX:XX on 0X/XX/20XX.**

**The Bullworth Academy Staff**

Slapping his leg Gary reached into his pocket again and drew out a smaller piece of paper. This was the one that had the information he was initially looking for:

**GEOGRAPHY: Bring your text book and a ledger for taking notes. Be ready to share any stories you might have about vacations to other countries. - -Mr. Matthews**

**BIOLOGY: Book, Notebook. Everything else is provided but the class is always thankful for more formaldehyde. - -Slawter**

**MATHAMATICS: Text book (proper year, nothing out of date!), paper and pencils. Absolutely NO calculators. - -Mr. Hattrick**

**ENGLISH: Please have your course book when you arrive accompanied by a sturdy notebook and pencils of you're choosing. Also bring your willingness to learn! - -Mr. Galloway**

Everything was there. Gary exhaled and fell backward into a slouch against his tree. Everything about today had been new; new school, new people, new life. He slowly closed his eyes and opened his mind.

* * *

School had been another word for trouble since the beginning. Gary been a "free spirit" in kindergarten and then in first grade, when children are expected to stop playing and start performing, he became a "trouble maker." Looking out the window instead of at the black board was a reoccurring problem through elementary school despite receiving high marks. Then there came the day that he evolved into a "delinquent."

On that day Gray's fifth grade teacher had become fed up with his day dreaming and abruptly stopped the lesson to berate his foolishness in front of the entire class. She had preached for a several minutes before young Gary even realized she had stopped teaching, tipped off by the giggling of the other kids. Being singled out and ridiculed, he spontaneously stood up and screamed back at her using the colorful language he'd learned from his tenement neighbors.

The very next day Gary Smith, age eleven, was diagnosed with Attention Deficit Disorder. He started attending special classes in the middle of the day with weird kids; kids who obviously had extremely off putting problems. This was the day he learned that something was wrong with him. He was made to apologize to his teacher, he did so with aplomb, and by the end of the school year a lot of the faculty questioned why the boy was attending behavior monitoring lessons.

In junior high there was a significant change in Gary. That, of course, was adolescence. He grew up tall and started viewing the world differently. Before he was happy to stay in the good graces of adults, it was what he wanted. Now, however, he was happy to please only himself and in a world of children going through trails of puberty instant gratification was everywhere. He continuously misplaced his school supplies, not always on purpose, and key dates and times slipped his mind. Several graffiti tags, fights, and snapped bra straps later Gary found his ADD being discussed again. This time he walked away with a prescription instead of just a slap on the wrist.

Taking medicine when you weren't sick made zero sense to him. It was stupid and worse, it was simply what _other_ people wanted. He flushed the entire bottle down a toilet in the school men's room and went about his life and was happy to do so. Still, something in the way that Gary walked, talked, and acted; something in the very way that he was gave him away and he was given a fresh prescription and a professional counselor.

Dr. Bambillo was less than stellar in the field of psychiatric help. He was a superstitious man and was happy to take bribes from pharmaceutical companies to support his many hobbies that he had infused into his career. He had an interest in the human psyche but was extremely put off by people who were mentally ill. Bambillo was the sort of man who liked to tell someone if they were sane or not and then get paid. Naturally, he had a very successful practice in Old Bullworth Vale.

He started Gary off with 'repeat after me' sessions in which he would say things like "I am a good boy" and "I like obeying the rules" prompting Gary to repeat. This only served to irritate his patient and the good doctor was forced to resort to more complicated means. He changed Gary's prescription and suddenly there were three pills to swallow instead of one. At the beginning of each of their conferences the medicine was to be ingested no exceptions. After several rocky 'tell me about you' meetings Dr. Bambillo, who was at his wits end, asked an intriguing question.

"What would you change about society?" Bambillo had inquired. He had expected an answer along the lines of different teachers, be allowed to watch R-rated movies or some other form of stereotypical teen angst and was wholly prepared to explain why one must conform to the world and not the other way around. Instead his teenage patient spoke openly about the inner workings of the human mind; what made them weak and what made them strong. He also explained the trappings of religion, the futility of human relations, the failures of western civilization, and wove a verbal tapestry of how much better the world would be with a few key changes.

When the things Gary said started to make sense to Dr. Bambillo he was shook to his very core. He retreated from pushing the so-called inner workings of his patient to light and moved to wrap things up and wash his hands of him. He wrote in his findings that Gary Smith 'was not to be trusted' and a whole lot more that summed up as 'this kid is messed up.'

In their final session Dr. Bambillo explained that while Gary's ideas were 'all well and good' he wouldn't make it far if he flunked out of school due to bad behavior and ended up like the punks roaming around Blue Skies Industrial Park. This was the first and only thing that the doctor ever said that made any logical sense to Gary. He was too smart to mix with drop-outs and anyone who was anyone in this town went to Bullworth Academy after middle school. His doctor also explained that taking his medicine would not change how he thought or felt but would simply serve to keep him focused on his goals so it was in Gary's own best interest to take it.

If it was a means to the end it was worth it and Gary began taking his medications in the proper dosages. It wasn't long before waking up, going to school, going to bed, and doing it all over again was perfectly tolerable. Being gifted with an above average intelligence and now having the concentration to take advantage of it brought Gary out of junior high with top grades and a scholarship to Bullworth Academy. All those ideas that had nothing to do with that one school in this one town seemed very far away. He couldn't remember much of what he had told his psychiatrist and what he did remember he could no longer relate too.

* * *

Content that everything was ready for tomorrow and he was neither missing anything nor forgetting anything Gary put his effects back into his book bag. He had worked hard to be here at Bullworth and was going to work hard to get out where the world was waiting on a silver platter for those who were worthy. No one else could do it but him. No one else knew how. Now was not the time to tempt fate by forgetting his math book.

"Hey, Gary."

Gary nearly jumped out of his skin and the contents of his bag slipped back out onto the grass. He whipped his head around to see who had disrupted his thoughts but saw no one.

"What the..." he began.

"Down here!" Gary leaned over the rock wall and sure enough there was Peter Kowalski looking up at him with big brown eyes. As he stared down in disbelief Pete tried to climb up but the escalation was beyond his physical capabilities. "Ha ha… I don't know how you got up there, but could you come down?" he called up.

"Why?" was all Gary could think to say.

"It's getting close to eleven o'clock so the prefects are going to be patrolling soon to make sure no one is breaking the curfew," replied Pete.

"That's not what I was asking," Gary said while crossing his arms. "I meant why you are here. Why are you talking to me?"

"Why not?" Pete countered. Apparently just a few hours at Bullworth had emboldened him quite an extent as compared to his demeanor at the freshman address.

"You're scared of me," said Gary. It was not a question. This surprised Pete.

"Wha- -No I'm not!" He yelped, but Gary had heard enough and leaned back out of Pete's view.

"Don't play dumb with me,' Gary shouted. "You ran through the auditorium with the grace a fucking gazelle when you saw my… dare I say it… scar! OoooOooooOoooo. Now kindly get lost."

"Whoa," Pete said putting his hands up in defense even though Gary couldn't see it. "I wasn't running from you, Gary, I was running from one of the prefects. He gave me the warning sign to find a seat and since there wasn't one near you I went to go find one. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings- -OW!" Pete recoiled from the apple that hit him in the forehead. When he had recovered Gary was once again looking down at him.

"You did not hurt my _feelings_,' Gary said his voice dripping with repugnance. Nevertheless he stuffed his belongings back into his bag, careful to count each one, and dropped down into the courtyard where Pete was still on the ground. 'I don't need your excuses, Petey."

It certainly sounded like Gary was still mad but something in the way he spoke was reassuring to Pete.

"Yeah, okay, you're right," Pete said, rising to his feet. "We really should get to the dorms though. I can see some flash lights over there and- -Hey!" Gary started walking without saying a word. Like earlier in the day the stint of silence stretched into several long minutes. "By the way,' Pete began 'I really like that scar. It says a lot about you."

"Oh yeah?' Gary asked cocking an eyebrow. 'And what is it telling you?"

"It says that, well, that you have experience," Pete explained.

"So what you're saying is I'm promiscuous?"

"No, not like that, I meant that you have experience in life. That you've 'been there.' That you know what you're doing because you've already done it and have the scar to prove it,' Pete stammered. 'I don't know it's like you know something the rest of us don't. It's cool. Really cool."

Gary just smiled as they walked the rest of the way to the Boy's Dormitory.

_continued._


	2. Domestic Bliss

STORY: Tell Him Something Pretty

AUTHOR: M.

SERIES: Bully / Canis Canem Edit

SUMMARY: A complete interpretation of Gary Smith's personal war on Bullworth Academy. Pre/through/& post game. (Epic.)

RATING: Rated T for a tiny and/or titanic bit of coarse language and references to sexy sex.

DISCLAIMER: The characters and places depicted herein are not public domain. The author is not accepting funds for the publication of this story.

_The campus of Bullworth is, as one might expect, very large and there are many ways to get lost but since the Main Building is the tallest and has a dilapidated Bell Tower atop it you can just use that as a beacon to find your way. Keeping that in mind, if you're intrepid you'll find lots of places to see and things to do. Let's see, there's a modest Library housing multitudes of nerds to the west and to the east is the faculty parking lot and a greasy auto shop that is home to, you guessed it, the greasers. Due north is the gymnasium and the football field which sports grass that is even greener then the money that went into manufacturing its neighboring building; Harrington House. Harrington House is the school's newest addition and was constructed courtesy of Harrington Oil Company in honor of the president's son buying his way into the student directory. That's how things work here but enough about all that, its late, so the place to be now is the dormitory which is by far the most boring location on the academy grounds. The only thing remotely interesting (I use that term loosely) about it are the people who live there. You'll see what I mean. _

_**two**_ Domestic Bliss

It was well past curfew but the Boy's Dormitory was lit up like a Christmas tree. Every student had been ushered inside and all four prefects stood guard outside. This was an unusual display of competence and was only to show the freshman that Bullworth meant business.

Despite the presence of the hulking prefects outside the inside of the dorm was nowhere near preferable. The building was absolutely trashed and the strange scent of spray paint, sulfur, and blood hung in the air. Worst of all it was unanimously declared open season on freshman and the cliques ceased targeting each other to celebrate this timeless tradition.

As soon as Gary had walked through the entrance he had been greeted with a sucker punch in the arm. He was immediately on the defense but whoever had delivered the blow had already moved onto fresher game. Pete had not been visible from where he stood behind Gary and escaped attack.

Backing into a corner, Gary unzipped his book bag and withdrew a small brass key with the number seven on it. Looking ahead and through the chaos he gleaned that there three ways to go. Straight ahead there was a commons area where the slowest and stupidest freshman and been driven to be beaten. There would be no escape from that room without humiliating injuries.

"This one break too easy!' roared a startlingly heavy voice. Gary stood on his toes and was flabbergasted to see the head and shoulders of a boy who was easily seven feet tall. His shaggy hair was messy and his knuckles were white from an evening spent knocking several lesser boy's unconscious. And he wasn't done yet. 'Trent! Bring more ants for Russell to smash!"

"Heh heh heh! You got it, Russell!" shouted a bulky blond kid with a Hollywood haircut. Gary gawked as he recognized a handful of Russell's buddies from the assembly that afternoon; they were freshman themselves. The traitorous freshman boys whooped and hollered; reaching out at other guys haphazardly and whipping them into the lobby to be destroyed by Russell and his goons.

Unwilling to remain still a moment longer Gary lunched forward into a sprint and Pete, who had been hiding in his shadow, ran to follow. With only a hope and a prayer the pair barreled into the mob and Gary forced his way to the left half of the dormitory getting an elbow in the ribs for his trouble. He spied the door with 7 embossed on it; his key in the lock and turning instantaneously. He threw himself inside and moved to slam the door but someone or something had wedged itself in the door frame.

Panic gripped him as Gary knew that if any of the upper class men or bullies succeeded in pushing his door open his room would become another place to herd the freshman for more pummeling. High on adrenalin he screwed his eyes shut and rammed into the door with all his strength.

"G-Gary…!"

Gary's eyes snapped open and though his vision was blurred from the exhilaration he could still make out the meek form of Pete sandwiched between the door and its frame.

Suddenly there were excited shouts in the hallway.

They had been discovered.

"Get the hell out of my dorm!' Gary screamed grabbing Pete's arm from where it blocked the door. "Go find your own!"

"This **IS** my dorm!" Pete cried out, terrified, and struggled to worm the rest of the way in.

Gary yanked Pete's arm effectively pulling him into the room and finally able to slam the door shut. The two boys collapsed against the door and just breathed. It was a very long time before the deafening knocks and crude taunts subsided.

* * *

"You know…,' Gary huffed after awhile, 'you really could have told me you were in seven ahead of time."

"S-sorry…" sighed Pete, his throat parched.

Rising to his feet with no small effort, Gary traipsed over to one of two identical beds and laid his stuff down. He was hot from his sprint and blind terror of the incident and moved to open a window to let in the briny summer air. When he had it halfway open he heard the unnerving sound of laughter and quizzically leaned through the gap. Outside the prefects were in a bout of hysteria outside the windows of the commons area. The sound was dull but screams for help could be heard from inside the lounge. Gary slammed the window shut. He sat in a slouch on the edge of his bed and buried his face in his hands.

Bullworth was nothing like he had been led to believe. It may be the number one choice for the socially prominent who had their own first class frat house but for everyone else it was pure hell. He didn't know how he was going to work with the aggressive people he would have to live beside. He didn't know how to deal with Pete who was still hyperventilating on the floor. He didn't know how he was going to make it here. He just didn't know.

He blindly groped inside of his bag for his medicine. He just needed to focus right now and his pills always made the haze in his brain go away; calmed him down. His fingers drifted over his textbooks and notebooks, his wallet and writing utensils. Everything but his medicine bottle.

Dread swallowed Gary whole, bleaching the color from his face. He thrust open the bag, snapping the zipper, and poured the contents onto the floor. He dropped unto his hands and knees and scoured the scene, his eyes darting from one object to the next. It wasn't there.

"I can't…' he gasped putting his hands to his head. "Without those I can't…I can't do it… I'll go nuts… I-I'll screw up- -"He stopped suddenly.

It was like a light had come on in his head, or gone out, he couldn't tell.

Gary couldn't remember life before his drugs. Sure he still had all of his memories but the rhyme and reason that they were built upon had been blacked out.

Stolen away.

It was weird. Though his mind was cloudy he could feel the questions bubbling up inside of him; the yearning for answers that engulfed him was both familiar and foreign. Just out of reach there were hundreds of answers to his problems but he didn't have the mental capacity to choose one and flesh it out. It was like there was a wall there, one that was new and sturdy.

The feelings were vague but Gary had felt these sentiments before, a long time ago before getting accepted to and graduating from Bullworth had encompassed his life. Before Dr. Bambillo had convinced him to take his medicine because it was a good thing.

It was good for him.

Good things would come of it.

He was a _good_ boy.

* * *

"Gary?"

Gary screamed. Pete was so shocked he screamed too.

"OH JEEZ! I'm sorry! I'm sorry, Gary!"

Gary fell forward, his arms catching him before his face hit the floor.

"What…do you…want?" he asked between shuddering breaths. Pete gaped, his mouth opening and closing wordlessly until he found his voice.

"You…dropped…your...vitamins…" He said like automaton slowly handing Gary a relatively small white bottle while fighting the urge to just roll it over to him.

Gary reached out to take it, the task made difficult by the tremors in his arms. Turning the bottle over, he read the label:

**MULTI-VITAMINS**.

That's what it said but Gary knew what it really was. Without even thinking he unscrewed the cap, shook out three different colored pills, and swallowed each dry. Almost instantly he could feel his heart beat slow and his nerves unwind like his body knew that everything was okay now. The flashing red lights in his head turned a welcome and calming green. All was well.

Gary exhaled slowly and looked over at Pete who was visibly still shell-shocked.

"I'm sorry, Pete,' he said flatly. "It's been a long day."

"Tell me about it..." Pete answered cautiously. "So… you really like vitamins?" Gary could tell by the cut of his voice that Pete had guessed what he had hidden in his vitamin bottle.

"It's nothing illegal is that's what you think," he challenged.

"I don't think that,' Pete replied curtly and stood up. Having to look up at Pete was slightly more than he could accept so Gary rose too although his legs were still jittery and unstable. 'It's nothing to be ashamed of."

Gary studied the sympathetic look Pete regarded him with. It was a face that did not judge him based on that fact that he took medications but it also told him that Pete himself didn't have to take any such pills; that he was strong enough to live through the day without crutches. Overwhelmed with humility and the need to change the subject Gary jabbed Pete in the face where a long bruise had begun to form.

"It looks like you took a few hits on the way here, Petey."

Pete winced and rubbed his cheek.

"Actually that's from where you slammed the door, literally, into my face,' he said and quickly added "But its fine! It doesn't hurt. It's cool."

"Whatever," Gary muttered looking away. He picked up his school supplies for the third time that day, filed them away inside his bag, and grudgingly worked the zipper back into place. Kicking off his shoes he flopped onto his bed belly first then rolled onto his back; he drew his Bullworth sweater vest up over his head and threw it on the floor. That was all the effort Gary could muster toward getting undressed but sleep eluded so he drifted into day dreams about nothing at all.

* * *

"Hey, Gary, are you asleep?"

"…."

"…."

"…."

"…Gary?"

"NO, Pete."

"Oh, sorry… Hey, Gary?"

"Ohmygod, what?"

"What were you talking about earlier?"

"HUH?"

"Right before I gave you back your, uh, vitamins. You were staring off into space and you were saying something over and over, but I couldn't make it out. It was really creepy- -Not that you're creepy! I'm just saying that what was happening was…uh…"

"...I don't remember."

"Huh?"

"I said I don't remember. I was looking for the bottle and you finally decided to speak up and hand it over. Nothing else happened."

"Gary…"

"I mean it, stop screwing with me."

"…Yeah. I'm sorry."

"…..."

"…..."

"…..."

"Hey, Gary?"

"**JESUS, PETE**."

"Sorry it's just… Do you think tomorrow is gonna be anything like today?"

"How the hell should I know...? But tomorrows another day and all that nonsense."

"Yeah...today was so bad it can only get better from here."

"UH-_huuuuuuuuuh_."

"Heh. Goodnight, Gary."

"Sweet _dreeeeams_."

_continued._


	3. The Learning Curve

STORY: Tell Him Something Pretty

AUTHOR: M.

SERIES: Bully / Canis Canem Edit

SUMMARY: A complete interpretation of Gary Smith's personal war on Bullworth Academy. Pre/through/& post game. (Epic.)

RATING: Rated T for a tiny and/or titanic bit of coarse language and references to sexy sex.

DISCLAIMER: The characters and places depicted herein are not public domain. The author is not accepting funds for the publication of this story.

_It's safe to say that about seventy five percent of the male freshman student body was not thrilled with the school that they would call home for the next four years. Nowhere in the glossy preparatory pamphlets had it mentioned the degenerates that you'd be forced to co inhabit with. Now, as utterly disappointing as your fellow students are one would think that at least the teachers must be good; that they must be Bullworth's redeeming factor, right? Well, whiz kid, guess which adults let all these juveniles become such "bad apples." _

_**three**_ The Learning Curve

Sunlight peeked through the slits in the blinds draped over the windows of dorm room number seven forming contrasting stripes of shadow and radiance. Pete sat on the edge of his bed in cotton pajamas with his school supplies resting to the left of him and his neatly folded school uniform to the right. Despite the trauma of the previous night he had slept very well and harbored a positive outlook for the school day to come. He had awoken at six thirty a.m. on the nose and made his bed and gathered his provisions as quietly as possible.

It was now seven O' five and his roommate, Gary, had not so much as twitched his big toe. Pete had intended to let him use the bathroom first as a courtesy but at this rate they were both going to be late on their first day of classes. He had stood up on at least three separate occasions with every intention of beginning his shower but in the end had sat back down again.

Pete's imagination had begun to run away with itself. He speculated on Gary's actions the previous night and fretted over the notion that he might have accidently over dosed in his haste to medicate himself. Pete had only seen gritty things like that occur on television but didn't doubt it could happen, especially at Bullworth. As the minutes ticked by he wondered if it had been an accident at all, that maybe this place was so horrible poor Gary had only seen one way out. It would be just his luck that the first kid to suicide himself would be his roommate.

Frowning, Pete lightly punched himself in the chin. He was being stupid and he knew it. Obviously he had seen one too many movies and besides, he could plainly see Gary's chest rising and falling; if indeed he had tried to take the easy way out he was just comatose not dead.

Pete groaned and ran his hands over his face. That last thing he wanted to do was irritate Gary even further by waking him up but if it proved he was alright and would put an end to these silly delusions it was worth it. As he crossed the dark space between the two beds there was a sharp and sudden THUMP against the window and Pete yelped loudly.

Gary moaned and rose excruciatingly slowly into a slumped sitting position.

Pete breathed a sigh of relief into his inhaler.

Scratching the crown of his head and wincing from the sunlight Gary turned to Pete, threw his legs over the side of his bed, and stood with a wobble.

"What'd you scream for…?" he asked with a big yawn, slurring his words.

"Ah…' Pete hesitated, 'I think we just got egged." There was no question about it; the vibrant yellow yolk that ran bit by bit down the pane of glass was visible even through the blinds.

"Wonderful," Gary murmured and without paying Pete any further mind he shuffled into the bathroom and gingerly swung the door shut.

* * *

It was both a huge relief and a huge surprise that the shower had hot water. Gary had slept like rock but it was the caress of the balmy water and the invigorating scent of soap that really set him on his a-game. He was ready to take on the day, morons and all.

He absent mindedly towel dried his hair and then examined it in the mirror. A day before the Freshman Address Gary had gone to Old Bullworth Vale, the upper class corner of the city, to have his hair cut professionally. He didn't rightly know if the style could be called feathered or shaggy but it was modern and didn't make him look like a queer so he was happy. He ran his fingers over his scalp in lu of a comb and exited back into the bedroom.

"Done," said Gary unceremoniously as he crossed the room.

"Okay, great!" Pete exclaimed, jumping up from his bed and moving to the bathroom door where he paused. "I'll just be a few minutes."

"Uh-huh," Gary replied his attitude blasé as he searched a duffel bag for clean socks and underwear. Pete shuffled from foot to foot for a few moments, sucking on his lower lip.

"If you need anything just knock on the door," he said at last. This predictably initiated a breathy exhale and over-the-shoulder glare from Gary.

"Trust me, Pete,' he said crisply, 'there is nothing I neither need nor want from you while you're in the fucking shower, so sorry."

At this Pete laughed.

"Yeah, sorry," He chuckled. "Awkward. Anyways, let's walk to the main building together. I mean, two are stronger than one, right?" With that Pete finally closed the bathroom door. He could just imagine the face Gary was giving him but he felt good about having offered his roommate help, should he need it. Besides Gary, who was slightly larger than average in stature, was exceedingly easy to hide behind and would thus prove to be an invaluable ally in the dormitory halls and beyond. However, as he turned on the shower spigot, Pete was struck with the discouraging notion that he would be seeing a lot of Gary Smith's back this year.

* * *

Swapping out yesterday's socks and boxers for a fresh pair of each, Grey shrugged back into his slightly rumpled school uniform, tied his shoes and was out the door. He had heard Pete perfectly well when he had insinuated that they would be walking to class side-by-side like Dick and Jane but chose to feign ignorance.

The way Gary saw it any boy walking around with a black eye or bandages was practically airing the fact that they were on the losing side of last night's freshman beat down and might as well be asking for an encore. He simply couldn't afford to be seen with Peter Kowalski and the colossal bruise that covered the left side of his face. Furthermore he had known Pete for less than one day and since it was technically his own dumb fault for getting stuck in the door frame there was no reason to feel guilty about skipping off to class alone.

And only stupid people do shit for no reason.

The Dormitory hall vividly showed the aftermath of last night but everyone had mellowed out; some boys even walked around in gaudy pajamas with a toothbrush hanging from their mouth. Placated, Gary fished his class schedule out of his pocket and skimmed over it again. Today was Tuesday so he would be expected in Hattrick's mathematics class in a little less than thirty minutes. He had a pretty good idea of where the math lab (_heh, math lab_) was located but jogged the expanse of the courtyard that separated the dorms from the main building in order to save some time. As he climbed the stairs leading to the front entrance a hand reached out and forcefully yanked on his left wrist.

"Gord Vendome, charmed- -tell me, chap, is this a _real_ Aquaberry time piece?" asked a male voice in an agonizingly fake English accent. Physical contact was not something Gary was able to tolerate and quickly snatched his hand back careful not to cradle it as if it had been injured.

"It's real," was all he cared to say in response to the inquiry.

The boy who called himself Gord folded his arms and nodded knowingly.

"Mmmm, I thought as much. Part of the vintage collection if I am not mistaken? White Gold am I right?" Gary opened his mouth to confirm the gold classification of his wrist watch and then escape but Gord prattled on as if he wasn't even there. Since he was apparently stuck in conversation for the moment Gary scrutinized his assailant's appearance and mannerisms.

This Gord Vendome fellow was a born preppie, anyone with eyes could see that. Every square inch of his body from the neck down was covered in clothing and accessories from the major fashion label, Aquaberry, and he carried his school things in a European man-bag made of such fine leather one could practically hear it 'moo.' The guy never seemed to idle and if he was made to stand still he would also strike a pose.

Gord snapped in Gary's face.

"I say, lad, are you listening to me? Anyway, you have a marvelous Aquaberry accessory- very chic, respectable hair- quite nice. So what I truly mean to ask is **what** is with the boring school-issued sweater vest? And it's teal, **ugh**."

At that point nothing would have been as pleasurable as punching this guy in the face, but eager to answer all of the rich boy's questions and be on his way Gary opted to answer truthfully.

"This watch, it was a gift."

The delight in Gord's eyes disappeared like a candle flame being snuffed out.

"**OH**,' he said while backing away. 'Ah ha… well… my, ahem, apologies for bothering you. I just thought you might be… well never mind what I thought. Cheerio!" With a dismissive little wave he turned heel and sauntered off.

Never having been so insulted in all his life Gary could do nothing but stare after Vendome as he merged back into a cluster of other like-minded Aquaberry enthusiasts and drew his hand across his throat causing the entire group of preps to positively explode in laughter.

Gary then sauntered off as well, feeling very alone indeed.

* * *

Mathematics, sadly, did not pass without further complications for Gary. Mr. Hattrick wasted no time in issuing a bag check that resulted in no less then twelve confiscated calculators and being no fool he took up everyone's cell phone as well returning them when class was over. To kick things off he had covered his blackboard in math problems of varying difficulty and proceeded to choose students to come forward to solve one each. He seemed to single out those who tried not to make eye contact and glanced over the preppies that nonchalantly shook their heads 'no.'

Gary had been one of several to be picked and was able to solve the basic algebra problem fairly quickly and, most importantly, correctly. As he moved back to his seat someone deliberately jabbed him in the ribs with their pencil.

"Nice going, nerd," hissed a bulky boy clad in a football jersey with the name 'Harris' printed on the back. Though so enraged his ears turned red Gary remained stoic and returned to his seat as the jock continued to stab other passerby who had given Hattrick the right answer.

He concentrated hard on breathing in and out slowly as well as forcing the violent albeit gratifying visions from his mind. It was common sense at not just Bullworth but any school that if you mess with one Jock you mess with all the Jocks and thus it was just senseless to start a one-man war.

But oh how Gary wanted to do just that. He could feel the adrenaline racing through his body and began to have flights of fancy about who in class would stand behind him and which girls would think he was cool when he succeeded in bringing the uncouth gorilla to its knees.

Gary did not give life to his fanatical fantasies but instead continued to breath and was soon aptly rewarded by the calming sensation that only his medicine could provide. It served to wind him down and clear his mind of everything, even Mr. Hattrick's lecture. He felt the cold sweat along his back begin to dissipate and was vaguely aware of his facial expression going from taut to slack. The drugs in his system had completely wiped the excitement from Gary's palate but it could not expunge the humiliation from his memory. As class dragged on he sat very still looking as bored as every other student but inside he was screaming.

* * *

When the bell rang Gary all but flew out the double doors of the main building and into courtyard where he sucked in the cool autumn air as if he had been drowning. This garnered more than one odd stare from bystanders but he was too distraught to care. One more minute of having to sit in that classroom and he would have been violently ill, he was sure of it.

Coincidently, on his way out of the school building Gary had passed the cafeteria where several other students had already puked, presumably from the food, so he decided to return to the apple tree he had sat beneath yesterday. He had never been a big eater so the fruit the tree provided accompanied by a can of soda from a nearby vending machine suited him just fine for the duration of the lunch period.

As he ate Gary once again laid out all of his books and pencils and such on the grass and took inventory. He did so with considerably less gusto then yesterday because of the mood mathematics had left him in but was determined to focus on the task ahead, English class. The two textbooks and notebooks needed for the day's classes were accounted for and there were one, two, three, four, five pencils.

_Wait. _

Gary counted again. One, two, three, four… five. One too many. There was one where there had not been one before. This mysterious fifth pencil turned his meticulously handled inventory off of its axis. It ruined everything just by existing.

Gary forced himself to look away from the scene and breath. He hated it when he spiraled into anxiety so easily and for the love of god it was just a pencil. It was nothing to get so choked up about. He had the power to make it go away and restore order to his assortment. All was well.

Slowly Gary opened his eyes and again surveyed his pencils. Upon a second inspection it was obvious which one was the interloper. Four pencils were the familiar golden rod color of standard number twos and one was black with skulls printed on it and sported a neon orange eraser. More curious then irate now, Gary picked up the gothic pencil and turned it over in his hands. It was brand new, however the tip was broken as if it had been put under some form of stress, perhaps from having been stepped on and now it lay here forgotten. He was about to drop it again, to leave it to its fate, when he noticed writing carved toward the top. Gary brought it closer to his face in order to read the minute inscription.

Z. T.

Gary guessed it was probably someone's initials. If someone cared enough about this tacky pencil to crave their initials into it than it was probable that they might come back looking for it. It may have been small but Gary now possessed something that could be used for or against someone in this god forsaken school. It was progress. With a lopsided grin he gathered up his things, pocketed his tiny hostage, and dashed off to English class.

* * *

Mr. Galloway's English class was a refreshing change of pace from Mr. Hattrick's uptight utilitarian math class. The man had a dreamy look about him and spoke to every student as if they were already good friends. As soon as everyone was present and he had properly introduced himself, Galloway handed out some word jumble worksheets and exited the room. He didn't say why he was leaving only that he encouraged teamwork on the assignment.

No sooner had the door clicked shut then the classroom exploded to life. An estimated ninety five percent of the students crowded around the desk of a lanky girl wearing larger than necessary glasses that proclaimed her a nerd and dumped their English assignments onto her desk before dispersing to their chosen cliques. Mercifully two equally nerdy boys materialized around the girl to help her complete the stack of paperwork.

Gary set to work on completing his assignment on his own. There was nothing difficult about the worksheet and it simply established that anyone who could not do it on their own was either stupid, lazy, or both, and the nerds were no better for cowering and kowtowing to such scum. He also felt that while it was cool that Mr. Galloway was so laid back and trusting with his class it was also incredibly irresponsible of him to leave a room full of idiotic teenagers alone. It seemed that even when circumstances seemed bearable at Bullworth there would always to be some form of corruption found underneath.

"Psst… Gary…"

Gary whipped his head around and sure enough there was Pete sitting in the back row. He was virtually undetectable from where he sat behind other larger students and he had to wave his arm a little before Gary could zero in on him.

Gary motioned for Pete to join him and Pete obeyed. Like prior instances a silence soon settled between them.

"So… how has your day been?" Pete whispered. Gary laid down his pencil.

"You don't have to whisper, Petey, Galloway is awol," he said. Pete heaved a little sigh and glanced off to the side.

"Yeah, you're right… you're probably always right." Pete sighed, making a show of being cynical, and Gary narrowed his eyes in suspicion.

"And just what do you mean by that?" he asked with a bit of an edge to his voice. Pete shifted his lower jaw back and forth for a minute or two.

"Why did you leave me this morning and not say anything?' he finally asked. Gary rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair perfectly illustrating how he felt about a guilt trip. 'I mean, if you thought you were going to be late or something you could have just told me,' Pete continued. 'Then at least I wouldn't be left wondering why you ditched me." Okay, enough was enough. Gary lurched forward unexpectedly and effectively startled Pete out of his angst fest.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Are you hearing yourself, Pete?' he questioned with a tilt of his head. Pete was understandably offended and was about to say something but Gary cut him off. 'Listen. It doesn't really matter why I left the dorm early, alright? What does matter is that Gary is a big boy and so is, to a lesser extent, Petey. So we don't have to know where the other is every minute of the god damn day.' He paused to cross his arms over his chest. 'It's eerily flattering that you seem so taken by me but just back off some."

Gary didn't know why some fathom part of himself felt uncomfortable at the sight of Pete's sad little face. Everything he had said was true and he reminded himself again that he had known this kid even existed for just barely over twenty four hours. Pete had yet to prove that he was a friend with anything but his sentimental blather and talk was cheap. Gary slowly closed his eyes; people where not worth this amount of effort and aggravation.

* * *

Pete, on the other hand, was aggressively trying to think of a way to explain his thoughts to his friend without inadvertently ostracizing him. He regretted berating Gary over his early morning disappearing act; that had been stupid. Pete could never tell him that he had been extremely disappointed when he discovered that he would have to walk to school alone and definitely could never tell him that he had fretted over what Gary might do when left unaccompanied.

He had not been able to shake the morning's worries from his head. Pete had pictured in his mind's eye Gary stressing out over the first day of school and, unwilling to disturb Pete's shower, running off somewhere to take a hit of whatever was in that vitamin bottle of his. It had never even occurred to him that Gary would ditch him for any other reason and had only implied as much to gloss over his concern.

Never in his life had Pete been so wary of another human being much less someone of his own age but when Gary had cried out last night with that look of complete and utter detachment on his face there was no denying the fact that he was mentally ill. Pete had laid awake for an hour or so after the fact and sorted through his thoughts on the subject. At first he was disturbed that his roommate was crazy, but soon adapted a more mature outlook. Lots of people, especially young adults, took medications. There was no good reason to think Gary was crazy just because he had had a colossal anxiety attack. Bullworth, no doubt, had that effect on lots of kids. After entertaining that conception Pete had been able to sleep peacefully but his worries had returned with the day light. He knew deep down that he had no basis on which to believe Gary might somehow abuse his medications, but like all of his nagging insecurities it wouldn't go away.

* * *

Gary had long since gone back to working on his English paper so Pete cleared his throat to get his attention.

"Sorry," he said with the utmost sincerity.

"For what?" Gary asked without abandoning his school work. So this was how he was going to play it, Pete thought. Gary was just cool like that.

"Nothing," he said with a small smile and although Gary had his eyes on his work Pete could see the trace of a grin twitching along the right side of his mouth. Content that they had reached an impasse Pete set to work on his English paper as well. He found it very easy and was a quarter of the way through when he noticed someone looking at him from the corner of his eye. A boy with dated hair and wearing a vintage leather jacket was making faces in his and Gary's direction. Pete was immediately overcome with shame; shrinking into his shoulders and becoming pale.

Gary sensed the disturbance and spared a glance up at Pete. Seeing that he was visibly distressed Gary followed his gaze to some kid in a tawdry leather jacket making kissing faces at the two of them and jeering.

Gary exploded.

He could handle being stabbed with a pencil by a dimwit but having some fifty's throwback imply that he was a faggot was insufferable.

"And just what the hell are you looking at!" he demanded, jumping up from his chair and nearly knocking his desk over. The greaser stood up with fire in his eyes as If he'd been waiting for this to happen.

"I'll tell ya what I'm lookin' at,' he said while ambling up to Gray with a practiced walk. 'I'm lookin' at a sickenin' display of young love." He made more kissy faces and ran his tongue over his lips obscenely. The scene garnered the interest of the entire class.

"Is that right?" Gary said cocking his head to the left. "And… is that how they do things where you're from?' He jabbed his antagonist in the chest with his index finger. 'I'm afraid you're a bit _out of date_, **friend**. Nowadays you get your ass beat for just talking about that kind of shit and trust me it's not the kind you're probably use to."

Having the tables turned agitated the greaser so much he took out his fine-toothed comb and raked it through his perfectly sculpted hair in an attempt to look nonchalant.

"Names Ricky Pucino and youse best not forget it,' he spat in his thick Philadelphian accent.

"I already have,' Gary scoffed and turned back toward his desk while he had the upper hand, but Ricky grabbed him by the shoulder and forced him about face.

"Do **NOT** walk away from me, Pacino*!" He had produced a shop wrench from inside his jacket and prodded Gary in the chin with it. If the predicament escalated into a physical fight Gary knew that he would lose and his witty repartee would be for naught in the eyes of his peers. He put up his hands and backed away.

"Look," he said as he slowly reached for his school bag. "If you wanted to put your moves on Petey here… all you had to do was ask!"

With a swift jerk of his leg Gary forced his chair between himself and Ricky. As Ricky lunged forward to strike his legs got tangled under the chair and he fell forward. Gary then took the opportunity to swiftly make his way to the door and escape the scene.

"Damn it, you better steer real clear of the Auto Shop, you hear me, nosebleed?" Ricky screamed and in his frustration clumsily threw his wrench in the direction that Gary had run.

_continued._

*When Ricky calls Gary "Pacino" it is in reference to the movie "Scarface" that the actor Al Pacino stars in.


	4. Feminine Infringement

STORY: Tell Him Something Pretty

AUTHOR: M.

SERIES: Bully/ Canis Canem Edit

SUMMARY: A complete interpretation of Gary Smith's personal war on Bullworth Academy. Pre/through/& post game. (Epic.)

RATING: Rated T for a tiny and/or titanic bit of coarse language and references to sexy sex.

DISCLAIMER: The characters and/or places depicted herein are not public domain. The author is not accepting funds for the publication of this work.

_Peter Kowalski is like a little girl wrapped in loser boy. This kid is just barely five feet tall and wears baby pink of his own free will. It should come as no surprise that he isn't a part of any social circle and never will be; at least not until he hits puberty. I assume he hasn't yet… if he has and that's all femeboy has to show for it… that would be just sad. Er. Anyways despite that he walks straight and easily looks people in the eye when he talks so there might be more to him than meets the eye. I can't foresee any possible use for little Petey but it might be wise to keep him close. Just in case. _

_**four**_ Feminine Infringement

There were very few hall monitors roaming the corridors so Gary had no trouble dodging them in his haste to put distance between himself and the English room. Once he made it outside he purchased another soft drink from the vending machine and returned to the solitude of his apple tree heaving a sigh of relief. He may have made enemies out of all the auto shop lurkers by provoking Ricky Pucino, however, he had escaped being hit upside the head with a wench. He had also been forced to abandon one of his pencils. It was a muddled victory.

Gary reached into his bag and seized his vitamin bottle. It was still a little early but these were desperate times. He shook out three familiar pills of varying form and swallowed each one slowly with a swig of soda.

"You got anything good in there?"

Gary spewed his drink and whipped around to see a gangly red head staring over his shoulder.

"Whoa, say it, don't spray it," she said, a cigarette pursed between her thin lips. Gary gaped at her trying to figure out where she had appeared from and how she could so brazenly show an interest in pills. He shoved the medicine bottle back into his bag.

"They're just vitamins," he insisted.

"Bullshit,' said the girl. 'I know prescription drugs when I see them."

"That's nothing to be proud of" Gary shot back, his voice dripping with irritation. The girl just continued to puff away.

"Listen, I was just asking a question. You don't have to get so bent out of shape. I'm not gonna nark on you," she explained in a playful manner and moved to put out her cigarette.

"I have no reason to trust you," Gary replied tersely. He then turned away from her and sprawled out on the grass, using his bag and arms as a headrest.

"Fair enough,' he heard her say. The mysterious girl was silent for a long time and Gary thought that she had decided to leave or at least leave him alone but suddenly her face blocked out his view of the sky; her long red hair hung like drapes and tickled his face. 'Nice scar. The names Zoe."

"….Gary."

"So what brings you out here before the bell rings?"

"Ladies first."

"Man, you're a tenacious one. Me, I just couldn't stomach Tad Spencer's ratty little face any longer."

"And who the hell is Tad Spencer?"

"Pssh, just some plastic prep, you know, decides he knows what you're all about based on what over-priced crap you're not wearing and _talks like this_." Zoe rounded out her explanation in a deliberately fake English accent. The name she had mentioned was unfamiliar but the mannerisms… Gary sat up straight.

"This guy wasn't wearing a faggoty argyle sweater perchance?" Zoe laughed and slammed her fist into her hand as if to say 'Ah-ha!'

"Ding ding ding, we have a winner! But all those rich scum bags wear that Aquaberry trash." Gary then told Zoe the details of his earlier meeting with Gord Vendome and they shared a goodly laugh at the preppies expense.

"So why are you out here?' Zoe asked again, 'Second period isn't over for another ten minutes." To this Gary sighed and lay back down.

"It's pretty much the same story I just told you only with a greaser instead of a prep." This genuinely impressed Zoe.

"Well, the greasers are pretty okay guys so you must be really bad to have pissed them off on the very first day of class!"

"Yes…" Gary mumbled as he shut his eyes, "bad is what I am."

At that moment Zoe decided that she liked Gary. He was offensive and frustrating but he was also more real than anyone she had met in a very long time. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but Gary found Zoe to be tolerable as well. She was an outcast, seemed to be proud of it, and was not embarrassing to be seen with. They continued to talk about everything they already hated about Bullworth and everything they were probably going to hate in the coming months. Being so caught up in their conversation neither of them noticed when the final bell of the day rung.

"Gary, are you up there?"

The unexpected disturbance made Gary moan inaudibly and gave Zoe a start. She leaned over the rock wall that bordered the apple tree and peered down.

"And just who are you?" she asked. Judging by the roundness of his eyes the small boy below had obviously not expected her to be there.

"I, I…' he stuttered, 'I'm Pete, Pete Kowalski…"

"And you're looking for Gary?" Zoe asked entertained by how intimidating she apparently was.

"What? I mean, yes, I am, but- -"

"Then come on up." Zoe leaned down and offered her arm. The boy hesitated before grabbing her hand and a high pitched noise escaped him when she easily pulled him up.

"Hey, Pete," Gary greeted without enthusiasm.

"Gary!" Pete cried hoarsely. He was visibly shaken up from having just been manhandled by a female.

"So you two know each other," said Zoe as she crossed her arms and waited for the fun to begin. Gary scoffed and resumed resting his eyes. Pete nervously introduced himself again.

"Good… to meet you. I'm Pete…" He was nervous just being around a fiery girl like Zoe, but Pete also wondered if he had inadvertently screwed things up for Gary by interrupting them when he had. Zoe offered him her hand, this time for a handshake, and all thoughts of Gary immediately disappeared.

"I'm Zoe Taylor," she said with a smile. Gary bolted upright.

"**ZOE TAYLOR**?" he repeated. Zoe and Pete looked at him like he had suddenly burst into flames.

"_Yeeeeah_?" she said, uncertain.

"Z.T.,' Gary confirmed. He reached into his bag and fished out the mysterious fifth pencil. 'I believe this is yours," he said and handed it to her.

"No way,' she said as she took it from his hand. 'I thought this was gone forever."

"I found it right here under my tree," Gary said, happy to boast, however, Zoe clicked her tongue as she dropped the pencil into her schoolbag.

"No, sorry, this is my apple tree." This comment made Gary's right eye twitch.

"Oh? And just how do you figure that? Keep in mind that you're wrong as you tell me and Petey here." He gingerly leaned to the left and snaked his arm around Pete's shoulders in a way that made it perfectly clear that the game was now two against one. Pete just wanted to disappear and shrunk so far into his shoulders he almost did.

Zoe, understandably, failed to see Pete as an added threat.

"Hello,' she said as she gestured to her right, "This plot of land connects to the girl's dorm!"

"Hello,' Gary said, mocking her "This plot of land connects to the whole fucking school!"

Pete shot to his feet, shocking the hell out of the bickering pair.

"Would you two just shut up!' he screamed. 'I mean, look at yourselves! You're fighting over a piece of Bullworth.** Bullworth**! Seriously!' He took a deep, deep breath and exhaled before sitting back down and looking at them both with sad eyes. 'Man...I'm sorry."

All three teens just looked at each other for a minute.

"Whoa, Pete, you make a lot of sense." Zoe finally said but her pride would not let Gary off the hook. 'More then you're junkie friend over there," she added.

"**HEY**!" barked Gary and Pete; Gary because he was offended and Pete because he was afraid it was true.

Zoe grinned in a girlish way, charming Pete and pacifying Gary.

"Oh, hey, Gary,' Pete said, eager to dissipate the tension. 'I finished your English assignment for you and turned it in. I don't think you need to worry about….uh… leaving class since Mr. Galloway never came back. Also, here's your pencil." Gary's eyes lit up as Pete produced the pencil he had feared gone forever and felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

"Thanks, Petey,' he said, mesmerized, as he carefully returned the #2 instrument to its proper schoolbag pocket. 'By the way, thanks for taking one for the team back there." Though the pencil was now safely zipped away Gary continued to look downward as he found himself unable to look Pete in the eye.

As it so happened Pete was extremely happy to get his first words of praise from Gary.

"Don't mention it! That Ricky guy didn't bother me after you went away, I think he knew what everyone would think if he did. You set everything up so well, it was amazing. I mean, yeah, I was freaking out there for awhile but you just… had it all under control."

Zoe waggled her eyebrows at Gary as Pete, oblivious, chattered away.

"I was so scared the he was going to hit you with the wrench,' he said, his eyes getting glossy as he relieved the moment. Pete then remembered where he was and who he was talking to and corrected himself. 'I mean, it would have really sucked if he had clocked you with the wrench. It probably wouldn't have hurt, but still… yeah."

"Speaking of,' Zoe interjected 'You've got yourself a nice shiner along your cheek there, Pete." She reached forward and nimbly ran her soft fingers along his bruise. Predictably Pete blushed all the way up to his ears.

"It's nothing," he said, hoping he sounded convincing.

"Yeah I had heard that the freshman boys had a pretty wild night,' she continued, 'looks like you were part of the action. Awesome."

Pete could feel his chest swell with pride and he grinned from ear to ear. Gary just found Zoe's logic maddening. She was playing Pete like a five dollar fiddle and it was just plain sad to watch.

"So what about you, Gary? Do you have any badges of courage like Pete?" Zoe asked. The lofty look she regarded him with quite plainly said that she doubted it; Gary had already proven he was good at running away. He knew he didn't have to prove himself to her but he could not stop himself from snorting and yanking up his shirt, revealing his abdomen.

"I have a bruise on my left rib cage and stab wound from a pencil in my right,' he snapped. 'Are you impressed, your highness?"

"Very," Zoe purred and ran a finger down Gary's right rib cage before poking him in the tender spot of his stab wound. Gary sucked in air to keep from crying out and pulled his shirt back down. Before he could work up a rage she put another question to him.

"So who stabbed you? That was dirty."

"Some jock,' Gary sniffed. He didn't volunteer the information that it had happened during class and not during the freshman beat down Zoe seemed so enamored with. She regarded him with a look of empathy and punched the ground.

"This place…,' she began, 'It's messed up. I mean, so is the world, but Bullworth? It's like it's the epicenter of sleaze."

"Yeah," Pete chimed in and drew his legs to his chest, 'but you know… that's life. This is how it is. This is how it's always gonna be. Just…like…this." He buried his face in his knees. Zoe spared him a glance and then looked quickly back at the ground.

"sucks…" she whispered and glumly fiddled with a blade of grass.

Gray's head turned back and forth between Pete and Zoe. It was difficult to tell which face was more wretched. Their sadness subsisted off of each other's and if left to themselves they would only continue to spiral deeper into the obscurity preordained for people of their ilk. If he stuck around Gary himself stood to be swallowed up by their miasma of insignificance as he well knew that depression was akin to a black hole; it absorbed everything near it. He swiftly realized he was in error; these pitiable people were not worth his time and worse their despair was dangerous. Without further ado he grabbed his bag and stood to leave.

Naturally this did not go unnoticed by Pete.

"Oh, Gary,' he sniffled, 'are you heading back to the dorm?"

Gary inwardly kicked himself. Since they shared a dorm he was stuck with Pete.

"Perhaps, but don't follow me," he said anyways.

Pete looked as if he had just been slapped in the face and Zoe was quick to defend him.

"Hey, what's your problem?" she demanded and proceeded to invade Gary's personal space. He slowly counted to three silently and fought off the urge to push her away.

"Back. Up," he warned.

"**NO**," she said defiantly.

"You guys…," Pete whined.

Gary pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation.

"Look, let me spell it out for you,' he explained, 'I don't want to be in the company of pussies. Understand? Great. See ya later." He made to leave once more but Zoe snatched his right arm and wrenched it back with such strength that he fell to the ground.

"Who the hell do you think you are?' she screamed. "Seriously, one minute we're just sitting here chatting and the next you're insulting me? What the hell, Gary!"

Gary looked up at her with disdain.

"Correction,' he said tartly, 'I insulted **both **you and Petey and frankly neither of you is doing much to prove me wrong." He stood up and dusted off his pants. "What else should I call two girls who sit around and talk about how things are so bad here at big, scary Bullworth? You don't like how things are; do something about it, don't just sit down there and bitch. That's all anyone does; all anyone has ever done in the god-fearing town, just bitch and moan!"

Zoe rolled her head back and scoffed.

"Oh, so now you're an anarchist? This coming from the guy who got himself marked by three factions in one day? Please spare me, Gary. Talk is cheap."

"You're damn right it is so let's do something."

"Do what_? Take over the world_?"

Gary missed the sarcasm.

"**YES**!" he cried as if were the obvious answer to anyone in their right mind.

Zoe stared, her mouth hanging open and even Pete looked at him cock-eyed.

"You… are… completely mental, aren't you?" Zoe said softly.

"Listen,' Gary urged and beckoned both of them to come closer. 'Your world for the next four years is right here. In other words, Bullworth is your world. It's a complete trash heap and it's full of morons but, hey, it's home. So what are your options? Well…' He paused and showed them his left hand in a loose fist. 'A, you can continue your little pity parties (he held up one finger.) B, you can try to assimilate into one of those brain dead cliques (another.) Or, C, we can take on these so-called time honored traditions and change the very workings of this school (a third.)"

Zoe and Pete looked at each other. As if reading their minds Gary explained further.

"It may sound daunting to you but think of it this way; we won't be conquering the school like in some cliché G-rated movie, just influencing how things are done and putting certain people in their place. Zoe, how nice would it be if everyone wore the crappy uniform like we're supposed too? None of that Aquaberry crap allowed, yes? And Petey, say, what would it be like if the prefects did their damn job all the time and not just when they feel like beating on someone? No more having to sneak around to get to class, you'd be covered Now wouldn't that be keen?' He sighed and held his hands out by his sides. 'It's so easy to lament your lot in life but the thought of taking on the institution and winning… Does that not excite you? Isn't it worth a try, _friends_?"

The three teens were quiet for a few moments as Zoe and Pete turned over all that Gary had said in their minds. For Zoe there was not much to think about so she stood up with a crooked grin and took one of Gary's open hands.

"Well, Gary Smith, I'm not one hundred percent convinced of your crackpot delusions but if it's for turning this backwards school upside down… I'm in."

Gary squeezed her hand and returned her smirk.

"Glad to have you onboard, Zoe Taylor."

Together they turned to Pete.

"Come on, Pete, lets crash the social hierarchy," said Zoe pretending to be bored.

"If you're not with us, you're against us," Gary cautioned.

Pete hastily ran through things in his head.

Gary had lofty ambitions and was very reserved but he was also strong with his words and with his actions. He says what he means and means what he says. Alternatively, Zoe was grounded in reality and open about her feelings. In the short time that they had known each other it seemed as if she was already able to chip away at Gary's shell. They balanced each other out and now that two of them had a common goal they would be unstoppable. Pete didn't know where or how he could be factored into the plan, only that he wanted to be a part of it.

He jumped to his feet, nearly fell forward, took Zoe's open hand and, after a brief hesitation, took Gary's as well.

Together the three teenagers stood forming a trinity.

"The gangs all here," Zoe giggled.

Pete nodded and looked at his feet, his shyness getting the better of him.

And Gary..?

Gary just smiled.

_continued._


	5. Big

STORY: Tell Him Something Pretty

AUTHOR: M.

SERIES: Bully / Canis Canem Edit

SUMMARY: A complete interpretation of Gary Smith's personal war on Bullworth Academy. Pre/through/& post game. (Epic.)

RATING: Rated T for a tiny and/or titanic bit of coarse language and references to sexy sex.

DISCLAIMER: The characters and/or places herein are not public domain. The author is not accepting funds for the publication of this work.

_The outlandish Zoe Taylor, what can be said about this chick that isn't already blatantly obvious…? A brazen truant who speaks to complete strangers with a curious lack of discretion; she is probably a hopeless romantic underneath all of her bravado. Her average countenance is draped by natural red hair and she struts around in kitschy boots that weigh more than she does. All of these traits combine to form a collaborator of considerable worth and now that the wheels of our revolution are turning she will soon be put to the test. _

_five_ **Big**

What a day.

Nightfall had snuck up on the trio and they were soon threatened by the roving prefects. Zoe bid the boys ado and fled to the girl's dormitory with a promise to meet again tomorrow.

As he walked the short ways to his own dorm with Pete at his side Gary felt the thrill and excitement of the evening drain away with every step. His drugs were doing their job and they did not allow for deviations from the straight and narrow. Sleep, go to school, do well, and do it again; there was no time for foolish conspiracies against the institution.

Gary, however, could not abandon his designs even at the prompting of his medication. He fought the urge to forget about the whole thing, to just go to bed and wake up to a new tomorrow. It would be a new day of new classes with new people and new chances. It would be so easy to just forget about the plan and just be good… so easy…

"Gary?"

"Uhn?" Gary murmured and let his head loll to the right to see Pete who was giving him that anxious stare of his.

"You don't look so good,' Pete said. 'We're almost back to the room so you should lie down when we get there."

Gary blinked and saw the steps leading to the boy's dormitory entrance just ahead.

_When did we pass the court yard..?_

The two climbed the stairs, each one an increasing exertion for Gary, and as Pete reached for the door handle he paused. A massive racket made up of shouts and screams could be heard from within.

"Sounds like things haven't changed in there,' he muttered. 'You think if we just do what we did yesterday we'll be alright? Just don't slam the door in my face this time, okay, Gary?"

When he didn't receive an answer Pete looked over his shoulder. Gary was leaning heavily into the brick building and could no longer hide his condition. He, quite frankly, looked like death warmed over. In fact, he looked just as he had the previous night before he had his episode.

If Pete slipped into the dormitory now Gary would probably not even notice he was gone. He didn't know how to deal with unfamiliar problems like psychological breakdowns and he didn't trust himself to even give it a good try, but his scruples would not allow him to leave Gary outside, alone, and to the mercy of whoever might happen to walk by. Pete cautiously approached him.

"Gary…' he whispered, 'Do you need to take your medicine?"

"**NO**,' Gary snapped. 'I've already taken it…I'm _good_…"

"Then you're just really unwell!' Pete exclaimed. He was actually really happy that it was a sickness and not something wrong inside Gary's head. He grabbed Gary's wrist and gently pulled him back toward the Main Building. "Come on, I'll walk you to the infirmary."

Gary swatted Pete's lithe hand away and stumbled backwards until he hit the dormitory wall.

"Leggo of me," he hissed. "I'm not sick so just give me a minute… Or better yet, just go on without me. I'll live, trust me."

"I'm not going to leave you out here,' Pete said flatly. 'I'm not an idiot; I can see you leaning into the wall just to stay on your feet."

"Just give me a second," Gary said again, this time sounding more desperate. He wiped his brow with the sleeve of his shirt and glanced around, his vision rapid and erratic. Other guys had taken notice of their spat and some were coming nearer in the clear hopes that a fist fight was soon to follow. It soon became evident that the onlookers thought that he was harassing Pete and that they approved and wanted more. Simply ambling into the dorms was no longer an option. Against the influence of the pills Gary thought on his feet.

"Pete' he whispered franticly, 'go to our dorm and open the window. I'll meet you around back."

"Why?" Pete asked, completely ignorant of the boys who were gathering around waiting to see him in pain.

"**MOVE**!" Gary yelled and shoved him with both hands into the double doors of the dormitory.

* * *

"**What the hell**! ?"

With the wind knocked out of him, Pete glared back at Gary, his surprise and anger overriding his normal reservations. His hand easily found the door knob and twisted it. Forgetting all about the dangers within, he fervently shoved the door and leapt inside the dormitory. As the door swung shut Pete glimpsed haggard relief etched on Gary's face… and a faction of bullies surrounding him.

Then it all clicked.

"Oh hell…" he whispered to himself.

Despite how sick he was, Gary was going to take on all of those giant guys. While it was a tiny bit insulting that he thought he would do better with him out of the way, Pete's relief was way bigger than his pride. But wait, he was getting ahead of himself again. Just because some guys were coming up behind Gary didn't necessarily mean he was going to be attacked. That was a worst case scenario.

Pete was suddenly torn from his thoughts and violently hoisted into the air by one shoulder courtesy of Russell Northrop. What had he been thinking; this was Bullworth, the axis of worst case scenarios. Gary was going to get creamed and now, because of his inattentiveness, so was he.

"Russell found pink thing!"

Pete groaned from the humiliation and ceased his squirming. He looked down into the dark eyes of his assailant and in them he saw not blood thirst but a vague curiosity… confusion, perhaps?

"Uh… Hi?" he ventured.

"Pink girl's color. This boy's dorm," Russell stated.

Yep. Defiantly confusion.

"I-is it?' Pete asked and grinned nervously. 'Sorry about that." He simply didn't know how else to respond.

"You in wrong place."

It took Pete a minute to catch up.

"What…?' he began but stopped short.

_Oh, you've got to be kidding me…_

Pete's shoulders slumped even further for whatever beating Russell could dish out it would be nothing compared to having just been called a girl. Why, oh, why had he told his parents he wanted to stay in the dormitory? His house was right on the edge of town and he could bike to school in less than ten minutes so there was no plausible reason to stay in the dorms. Well, just one; to make friends and look where that had gotten him… up in the air mistaken for a girl.

"Gruh." Russell grunted and shook Pete when he had failed to respond.

_Oh man, I've got to stop day-dreaming! Okay, think. Lets see…I'm up in the air… my shoulder hurts a little- - no actually a lot. There's nothing I can do about being called a girl so I need to stop thinking about that for now… maybe I can escape from being pounded. Unlikely, but…_

"I-I'm in the wrong place? O-opps,' Pete twittered, his voice deliberately high-pitched. 'I guess you'd better let me down so I can be on my merry way.' He then paled. 'Unless you beat up girls…? You don't, right?"

_Lest we forget this is Bullworth_…

"Russell never strikes a girl."

And just like that Pete found himself being lightly placed on the floor. While he could hardly believe what had just happened the disbelief in the eyes of the dorm's onlookers was immeasurable. It was clear that a lot of the boys wanted to call his bluff but were too afraid of correcting Russell.

Pete anxiously ran a hand through his curly nutbrown hair, walked past Russell and everyone else (incredibly, in the opposite direction of the girl's dorm), opened the door to room number seven, and gently shut the door.

* * *

Trent Northwick was a star. When he turned eighteen he was going to blow this town and take Hollywood by storm but until then he really just loved to see people squirm.

All Davis White cared about was kicking guys in the balls. Fuck school, he had big ideas involving bottle rocks, bullying, and ball crushing.

Ethan Robinson had been an ancient jujitsu master in another life and now that he had entered high school his dormant powers were beginning to awaken. Luckily for him there were plenty of kids to devastate at Bullworth so he could practice his warrior's way.

All three of these boys had discovered an idol and a boss in Russell Northrop when they had been humbled by his singular destructive force. In him they saw a coercion superstar, an artist in brutality, and a sadistic sensei. They worked for him now and their only instruction was to hurt people so when they saw some small kid about to get beaten by some weirdo who kept twitching his neck they were naturally drawn to the spectacle. However the weird one just pushed the little one into the dormitory doors and let him escape to the inside.

And then it was over.

"What the- - **That was it**? ? ?" Trent yelled while throwing his out arms as if to further say 'what the hell?' He was backed up by extra scoffs and scowls from Davis and Ethan.

"Wasn't worth it,' the weird kid muttered and slowly shuffled around the side of the building. Something about his walk was disconcerting to Russell's crew and they opted not to follow him but they held no such qualms about verbally heckling him.

"Oh, sure, just stalk off yah dark horse! Loser…" Ethan shouted, trailing off at the end.

"Total, utter, disappointment," Trent jeered and flipped a bird that went unseen.

As the trio turned around and began to walk away Davis said "Aw, man I thought that guy was gonna murder that little dude."

"Dude? I thought that was a chick… you know, just for a second there."

"Whatever, man, don't be gay."

* * *

After he had locked his door and then checked twice to be sure that it was, indeed, locked Pete ran to the window along the far wall of the room, yanked up the blinds, and pulled it open. He leaned outward and searched for Gary but he was nowhere to be seen. His immediate thought was _'They got him_!', but then he looked down and there was his friend lying on the asphalt. His next thought was _'They got him_!'

"Gary!" Pete called down because what else could he do?

Gary's eyes snapped open and zeroed in on Pete from below. Judging by his cynical expression he was unsurprised to find himself on the ground.

"Pete."

"Oh, man, I'm sorry it took so long. There was Russell and then…stuff… happened. Mistakes were made."

Gary continued to simply stare at him, unmoving from the fetal position.

"So, uh… you want to come inside?" Pete asked, uncertain, and gestured toward the inside. At this Gary stood up without using his arms for leverage and for Pete it was like watching it rain upwards toward the sky. Gary gingerly climbed inside the gap of the open window and waved his hand signaling Pete to close it. Dropping his bag on the floor he then collapsed onto his bed and rubbed his temples in a small and practiced motion.

Pete attentively walked over to where Gary was in obvious discomfort and, swallowing the lump in his throat, sat on the edge of the bed. He slowly reached out to touch his back but thought better of it and laced his hands together in his lap instead.

"So it looks like you're okay, that's good. Sorry I yelled at you before. What did those guys want? Did you beat um all to hell?" There were so many things Pete wanted to know but all that would come out of his mouth was bothersome prattle that garnered no response at all from his estranged roommate. He took three deep breaths, tried to talk himself out of pushing the subject any further, and then finally laid a hand on Gary's shoulder.

"Gary…please talk to me."

Predictably, Gary's shoulders stiffened but he chose to hide his face from Pete rather than glare at him like in previous circumstances.

"Why do you care?"

"How can I not?" Pete couldn't stop caring even if he wanted too. And he did want to.

"Easily I should think. You've known me for less than forty-eight hours. I'm just the guy who is forced to room with you."

"You're wrong."

These two words together were more than Gary could accept; he ceased massaging his head and turned over unto his back so he could look Pete in the face.

"I suppose you wouldn't mind if I asked you to explain?" he said, daring to be defied.

"I'd be sad if you didn't,' Pete replied crisply as he was pleased that he had provoked Gary into carrying on a conversation. 'I could tell you something stupid like we went to kindergarten together, but the real reason I care about you is because you're my friend." He said it with such steadfast resolve that it took Gary a minute to form a reply.

"I'll say it again. You've known me for less than forty-eight hours. I'm just forced to room with you."

"And I still say you're wrong."

Gary was becoming increasingly irate. It was irritating that Pete didn't seem to comprehend basic logic but he could also feel a foreign curiosity bubble up within him. He wanted to know why someone who had known him for such a short while had the audacity to call him friend. Friends were superficial, vicious, and temporary. Girls were friends. Friends abandon you when they find out you're not normal; that you have to take three pills a day just to maintain the mere façade that you were.

And Pete already knew about the medication. So why? No, they were not friends. Gary would just have to speak more simply to get him to understand.

"I know this is going to sound clichéd,' Pete continued, 'but time doesn't really have anything to do with it. Not to me anyways. When I first got to this god awful place I was pushed to the ground and stepped on three times. When I asked for directions no one would answer me. I was seriously thinking about dropping out before school even started but then, for some reason, I asked you your name. And you answered me."

Touching as that was, it was not enough to dissuade Gary from his beliefs for it was a stone cold fact that Pete was a sentimentalist and nothing would convince him otherwise.

"Even though we had that misunderstanding you walked with me to the dorms and then you shielded me from the onslaught inside." Gary opened his mouth to point out that that had not been his intention in the least but Pete carried on. 'It doesn't matter if you meant to or not; you did and I'm grateful."

Gary was speechless. He had mocked, marred, ditched, and used Pete as a decoy in the past day but in all of those same instances Pete had actually found someone whom he wanted to associate with.

It was laughable.

It was girlish.

It was… humbling.

"Yeah… but I still slammed your head in the door," Gary said but all of his pep and zeal to argue was gone.

Pete sensed this and said "I forgive you."

Gary let his head fall backwards until it softly hit the wall and did a breathy exhale.

"Okay, Petey, since we're having girl talk here, how about you elaborate on your encounter with Russell? You're still in one piece so I just have to know how you managed to not die."

Pete groaned.

"Well, it wasn't a David and Goliath scenario if that's what you want to know," he said with a lopsided grin.

Gary laughed short and loud.

"I never thought for a nanosecond that you downed that big ape. No, I just want to know how you tricked your way out of an emergency room visit," he explained.

Pete cleared his throat and made one of the biggest mistakes of his short, little life.

"I pretended to be a girl," he said.

Gary's whole body jerked and he made a sound like he was choking.

"H-hey…' Pete stammered and reached out to shake his shoulder, but Gary sat upright and doubled over with laughter; like, real laughter. The kind one would expect to hear from a normal, happy, and healthy fourteen year old kid. It was like captivating music and was utterly infectious.

"H-hey,' Pete said again as he, too, started to chuckle, 'Don't laugh! Ha ha; I'm never going to be able to live this down!"

"No doubt!' Gary cried. 'I mean, ha, I was expecting a tricky tale but that? Ah ha…wow… Way to go, Femeboy, just way to go!" He was then overcome with the hilarity of it all again. The two boys laughed until it hurt as Pete explained how it had all went down and described the stupefied looks on the faces of the witnesses.

When the wave of giggles finally subsided and they had caught their breath Gary told Pete about what little had happened to him outside.

"And then they let me walk away and just made noise like a bunch of monkeys in tree branches. The way I see it, Russell's boys are nothing without Russell."

"That's somewhat reassuring, but…' said Pete as a question played on his lips waiting to be asked and Gary looked at him expectantly. 'But if they didn't attack you then why were you lying on the ground outside the window?"

That was the wrong thing to ask and Gary immediately retreated into his shell, the light of laughter gone from his eyes and replaced by shadows more familiar. However, Pete waited patiently for him to explain.

"…I don't remember."

This again.

"Okay…" Pete sighed and glanced off to the side and frowned. His blasé attitude struck a mean cord with Gary causing his nostrils to flare and his temperature rise.

"Don't patronize me, I'm not lying!" he snapped.

"I didn't say you were I just don't get how you can end up on the ground and not know or care how you got there."

"Then you're a moron!" Gary yelled, sliding off of his bed and stalking into the darkest corner of the room where he kept his back to everything.

Pete swiveled to face him anyway.

"Fine, I'm a moron,' he shouted at Gary's hunched back, 'But if you're so smart then why can't you make me understand?"

Then Pete lowered his voice and asked evenly, "What are you so afraid of?"

The line was crossed.

Gary felt the words and the repressed reasons rise up in his chest like a volcanic eruption. He could feel his mind break through the walls his medicine had built around it, so strong was his urge to counterattack. He turned heel and Pete met his feral stare, his eyes glinting in the darkness.

"I'm not afraid of anything!' he screamed and he didn't even know if he was addressing Pete, himself, or the whole world. 'I fear nothing! It's everyone else who's afraid! It's you who's afraid; my mom who's afraid; the doc who's afraid; not me! It's not my fault!"

"What's not your fault, Gary?" Pete asked unable to keep the empathy from his voice. Watching him pace back and forth and wring his hands repetitively with that jittery far away stare was nothing if not pitiable.

"**ME**! I'm not… my fault! It's not my fault I'm like this! It's like for some reason I can't explain I can't exist as I am in this world; this place so…!' Gary snatched up his schoolbag, yanking it open and grasping his pill bottle. 'So they give me these to make me into something I'm not; **FUCKING NORMAL**!"

He pitched the plastic bottle against the far wall were it shattered upon impact and rained capsules onto the floor. As if lead by an unseen string Gary immediately crossed the room to where his medication lay sprinkled about and fell to his knees.

He didn't want to believe he had created such chaos; he didn't want to believe he had enjoyed it, but most of all he didn't want to believe that he had ever allowed himself to be tricked into thinking that he couldn't accomplish anything of merit without the crutch of behavior medication. He could feel his heart beat like war drums in his chest and head and he forgot how to breathe. All this because of one simple question from one simple person. God, it was all so fucked up.

"Gary. Drink this." Pete was suddenly at his side offering him a glass of water. When had he moved from the bed? Gone into the bathroom to get the drink? Not important. Gary reached out to take the cup but the trembling of his arms and whole body made it impossible so Pete gracefully held it to his quivering lips so that he could drink. Only a little was spilt.

* * *

When Gary returned to his senses he was still on the floor only a blanket was covering him; Pete was sitting cross-legged nearby and had begun to locate and organize the pills. He put a fist to his heart and felt that his pulse had stabilized and, also, that his mind was as clear as a cloudless day. The medicine had come through for him again. That was…good. He vaguely remembered being very scared and angry over… something, but now it all seemed like a silly dream. A brief lapse in self control. Nothing more than a temper tantrum.

* * *

When he noticed Gary sit up from the corner of his eye Pete slowly stopped sorting the pills and turned toward him. Gary had been unconscious not even seven minutes by the telling of the alarm clock but it had felt like hours. He had fretted over getting the help of an adult or even a prefect.

_Yeah, and when they ask me what happened I'll have to tell them that I pushed him so hard about extremely personal issues that he blacked out. Plus Gary will be mad that I brought strangers into this. No thanks. _

When Gary had chucked his vitamin bottle in his general direction and then stalked toward him Pete had relinquished his control over the scenario and sprinted to the bathroom and locked the door. After a minute or two he opened the door a sliver and saw Gary kneeling amidst his scattered medicine with his back to him. Knowing then that he was in no danger Pete had fetched a cup and filled it with cold water before returning to the bedroom and taking vigil at Gary's side. As he goaded him to sip the water everything seemed to be winding down.

And then Gary passed out so, of course, Pete freaked out. He decided against going for help rather quickly and instead put his ear to Gary's chest. Yep, he was breathing…normally. In… out… In…out. Thank god. He pulled the top blanket off of Gary's bed, covered him with it, and then laid his head back down on his chest. Pete stayed like that for awhile and just felt the other boy's strong frame rise and fall; it was very much akin to waves break along smooth and sandy shores. He found himself wishing Gary could always be like this; at peace and big and warm. He knew on some level he was strange for thinking that way but just then he didn't need a reason. If time would just stop so that there would be no tomorrow full of unknowns and trials, but rather only right now with its serenity and mercy what a gift that would be.

Then Gary began to stir and the moment was lost forever. Pete skittered away from him and hurriedly collected some of the lost pills.

"How do you feel?" he asked as Gary sat upright.

"Nnnn… Normal… I guess. I blacked out didn't I?"

"Uh… yeah, you did."

"Well, there's your answer," Gary said as he stood up and dragged his comforter back to his bed.

"What?" Pete ask, thoroughly confused.

"Sometimes I just zone out. Like outside the window."

"Ah."

Gary took off his shirt and pulled his sleep T out of a duffel bag he had yet to unpack. He kicked off his shoes and socks then unbuckled his pants and kicked those off too. It was plenty warm enough to sleep in boxers. He flopped onto his stomach with a heavy grunt and glanced at the glowing digital alarm clock positioned on his nightstand. One thirty six a.m. Peachy. He turned over onto his side to see how Pete was fairing on the floor.

Pete had produced three small glass jars from his own school bag and had filled each with a separate form of pill. He then capped them all and stood up to place them on Gary's night table.

"You separated them," Gary observed.

"I thought you would appreciate that," Pete replied and then he, too, prepared for bed.

* * *

"Hey, Gary?"

"Mmmm, what is it?"

"Thanks for talking to me. I know it was hard."

"… I suppose you should be proud. That's more than my shrink has ever gotten out of me."

"I'm not sure that's a good thing."

"Don't blame me."

"I don't. So, uh, anyways… what do you think of Zoe?"

"What do I think _of _her?"

"Yeah, like…do you like her?"

"I've only known her for a few hours."

"Yeah yeah but you must have a first impression..?"

"Well, she owes me a debt. I like that."

"What? What do you mean?"

"That stupid pencil I gave back to her, Petey. Now she owes me a favor."

"….."

"….."

"Goodnight, Gary."

_continued._


	6. Rose Tint My World

STORY: Tell Him Something Pretty

AUTHOR: M.

SERIES: Bully / Canis Canem Edit

SUMMARY: A complete interpretation of Gary Smith's personal war on Bullworth Academy. Pre/through/& post game. (Epic.)

RATING: Rated T for a tiny and/or titanic bit of coarse language and references to sexy sex.

DISCLAIMER: The characters and/or places herein are not public domain. The author is not accepting funds for the publication of this work.

CHAPTER SYNOPSIS: Zoe and Lola discuss boys over a smoke and Mrs. Peabody deliberates on which girl is the lesser of two evils. Pete goes into town and discusses matters of the heart with Handy. Pete realizes he may be in love much to his dismay and is then harassed by Ricky and Hal at the Hardware Shoppe. Pinky presides over the lavish additions made to the girl's dorm. Zoe realizes she may be in love much to her delight. Gary wakes up.

_People are idiots when they are infatuated with other idiots. Enough said._

_six _**Rose Tint My World **

Zoe Taylor had found the cure to boredom; it was under an apple tree.

The morning was warm and thick and a light breeze carried the promise of autumn. Zoe sat inside her second story dorm room window sill and her legs dangled outside like supple wind chimes. There was a reticent smile on her lips as she took a drag from her cigarette. She had dreamed a little dream and it had stayed with her when she had woken up. She played every wonderful and embarrassing and romantic detail over in her head with every inhale and rewound it with every exhale.

"Hey, Carrots!"

Zoe looked down to see her roommate, Lola Lombardi, grinning up at her. Zoe wasn't too sure what to make of this girl who poked fun at her red hair. They had been known each other before enrolling at Bullworth but Lola had grown up considerably faster than Zoe. Although she allied herself with the greaser clique Lola had zero respect for the school dress code, like the preppies, and wore whatever she wished. She was always fashionable and wore (and didn't wear) clothing that made boys happy and made other girls resentful. Combining her sexy ensembles with her world class body and suggestive makeup it was dangerously easy to forget that she was only a freshman in High School.

"Yo, Hoe." Zoe called down.

Lola, like always, missed the implication.

"I told you stop with the lame-o pirate stuff; I get enough of that from Vance!" Lola was justified in her whining as Vance Medici was legendary for his bizarre fascination with pirates which was a great source of woe for the Greasers. "And here I was going to tell you something really useful, Carrots." Lola flipped at hand through her bobbed hair, crossed her arms, and waited for an apology. When Zoe just hummed and blew pink smoke rings Lola held up a book of matches as a clue.

Zoe sighed and nudged her cigarette pack, inside which remained two butts, with her knee, pushing it off of the ledge. Lola gleefully snatched it up and struck one of her match sticks.

"Ahhhhhhh" Lola purred as she exhaled a puff of blue smoke. "Your tribute is accepted. Oh thank you, Carrots!" Another puff. "So listen to this! You know Johnny Vincent from New Coventry, right? He was so square when he was just a little boy but he's grown up into a major Tough-Guy! A real Daddy-o! And he's keen on me! Isn't that just the peachiest thing you'll hear all day?"

So Lola already had a boyfriend. Big deal. Lucky Lola.

"_Well if that isn't just the bee's knees_," said Zoe in a positively ornery manner, "But listen to this! I met two guys under the apple tree last night!"

"OoooOOooooo!" Lola cooed. "Were they rich boys?"

"Hell no."

"Were they tough guys?"

"Not really."

"Older men?"

"I wish, but I doubt it. Freshman, like us, I'd wager."

"Well, what, then?" Lola asked, impatient for the low down.

"Well…" Zoe said, pondering. "One is really cute and kinda shy. The other is… well that's just the thing, Lola, he's unlike anyone anywhere." Zoe's eyes wandered away from where Lola was standing and off to right where the lone apple tree stood crisp with morning dew. "He's very aloof on the outside but at the same time is open about what's going on on the inside. He has a scar over his eye… right here," she paused to trace her finger over the right corner of her face, "And he carries a bottle full of pills. I don't know what kinds they are or why he takes them… maybe for a legit medical condition… or maybe for escapism… or…or just for, you know,… something to do." Zoe's cigarette had burned away in her fingers, the black ash cascading down upon Lola.

Lola pursed her lips and snapped her fingers. "Earth to Zoe, come back to me, Carrots!"

Zoe blinked back in to the here and now and shook her hand indigently when she realized her cigarette had nearly burned her fingers.

Lola giggled.

"Anyway, I'm sure your new boyfriends are pretty… interesting, but listen! Peabody is on her way up to your room so I'd air out if I were you, Carrots."

The absolute last thing Zoe needed was to get reprimanded by the dorm monitor for smoking again and she glowered at Lola as she arbitrarily snatched up a notebook and began fanning the air.

"And just when were you going to tell me that?" she snapped.

"Well that was my super useful info!" Lola called sweetly. "But you were too busy chitchatting about your apple tree boys for me to tell you until just now."

There were two sudden and deliberate raps on Zoe's door.

"If your room is in need of more fumigation you are in big trouble, Miss Taylor!" Mrs. Peabody's voice carried through space like the piercing cry of a hawk and was just as menacing.

"OH! Um, just a minute, Ma'am, I'm not decent!" Zoe called in a dainty pitch as she swung her legs inside and crawled through her window. She then leaned back out and waved her hands at Lola who was mocking her ruse with overly effeminate gestures. "Get out of here!" Zoe hissed.

"Kiss-kiss, Carrots!" said Lola and then she was gone.

Just as Zoe slammed her window shut with one hand and plucked her top two shirt buttons undone with the other Mrs. Peabody charged in.

"OH!" Zoe cried in mock embarrassment and placed her hands over her collar bones.

"Save it," said Peabody as she perched herself in the middle of the room, beak high in the air. "I smell it. I do, indeed. The academy rules are clear on subject of smoke tobacco- yes, quite clear, Miss Taylor."

Zoe tried to screw her face up to look sad, admonished, innocent, anything besides pissed off. She tried anyways.

"Well…" said Zoe as she shut her eyes in a pensive manner, "I wasn't going to say anything but my roommate, _LOLA LOMBARDI_, was just outside the window and, I don't really know, but it looked like she might have been…smoking. I've always said no to cigarettes so I might be mistaken…" She opened one eye to gauge how well her story was winning over Peabody.

It was a toss-up. While it was clear the Mrs. Peabody still didn't trust her as far as she could throw her at least Zoe Taylor wore a skirt, unlike Lola Lombardi and her preference for extremely form fitting leggings. At least Miss Taylor was (seemingly) trying to be feminine and ladylike like a proper young girl. The only thing feminine about Miss Lombardi was her sex appeal and there was certainly nothing ladylike about that.

"Very well, Miss Taylor," Peabody sniffed, "I will look into this matter." She made another brief circuit of the room. "Until then, tidy up this room!" she squawked and pointed a twiggy finger, "And get rid of those garish combat boots!"

"I know just where to put them, Ma'am," said Zoe and as soon as Peabody was out the door she began lacing 'those garish combat boots' to her feet.

Tying up her boot strings, Zoe wiggled her toes as her thoughts once again turned to last night's dream. In her reverie she had spent an imaginary today with her new guy friend. They had been merrily surprised to discover that they shared morning class together and then at lunch the cafeteria cuisine was nothing short of scrumptious but there had been only one chocolate parfait left so they bashfully shared. After school they had returned to their apple tree and under a cloak of pink clouds Zoe-

woke up.

She would have puked over such a girly dream if it hadn't been so god damn romantic. Zoe took no shame from her romanticisms because they were just as much a part of her as her love of smashing things and her estrangement from her mother. All through middle school Zoe had spent many a quiet evening enthralled with the very grown-up romance novels she pinched from her mother's bookshelf. When Lola had been getting (and giving) her first kisses (and then some) Zoe was happy with just her books. They had carried her through puberty and now the most intimate truths about Zoe were safety tucked away- hidden in her mind and behind her intimidating appearance.

When the day came that a man was able to peel away her punk exterior and glimpse the virginal, passionate, and susceptible girl she was within- Zoe would be ready. So ready and willing. She hoped that day would come soon but waiting was real no chore. Not Really.

She had been waiting since page one.

* * *

Peter Kowalski could never have imagined that he would be running from the law at the crack of dawn. But he was. And that was that.

Pete had not slept a wink in the past twenty four hours and the night before he had irrationally (albeit kindly) given Gary his three glass bottles that he would need for Art class. Art 1 met in the morning. This morning. So Pete had rubbed his eyes, gotten dressed, spared his ungrateful roommate a glare full of daggers, and had slipped out the gates of Bullworth Academy. The Prefects were not yet awake; the teachers had yet to arrive.

The sidewalk was washed pale by the moonlight and stardust. The sifting sounds of the ocean were amplified by the calm and you could not see from one end of the bridge to the other for the fog- simply had to trust that town or whatever it was you were looking for was on the other side. Sirs and Madams of questionable virtue walked the lonely roads toward nowhere and ruin. All of these curiosities went unnoticed by Pete who simply plodded along toward the Spazz Industries Hardware Store and ran the back of his hand across his wet nose.

Getting three new jars and making it to class on time was all Pete cared about at the moment. That and psycho Gary Smith, damn it all. Pete didn't want to care or even think about Gary right now. It was because of Gary and his disturbing tendencies that he hadn't slept. It was because of Gary that he was having to walk into town at the ass crack of dawn and spend non-replenishable funds.

Since he was feeling bitter Pete also decreed (silently to himself) that it wasn't fair that Gary and his personal problems occupied his thoughts even when he was alone- like now. Couldn't he walk to the hardware store in the dark without having to riddle over someone else's damage?

Apparently not.

Pete was beginning to suspect that while he didn't dislike Gary Smith, he didn't necessarily like him either. Pete respected him and cared about him but actually liking Gary as a person was becoming more of a stretch with each passing night. But that was fine because, for instance, Pete didn't necessarily like his parents. He loved them, of course, with all his heart, but he did not like them. Pete thought that he might like Zoe Taylor, she was so cool. She was a girl. But he just wasn't sure yet. One thing Pete was sure of was that he hated himself. Of that there could be no doubt. So when he next saw Gary Pete would grin at him and greet him. Help him shoulder the weight of the world. Adhere to any crackpot schemes. Carry his books if he asked. That was fair.

* * *

Pete's head was hung so low, his thoughts so far away that he walked straight into the bolted door of the hardware store. A sign rattled behind the glass as he backed up and rubbed his head, glancing to the left and right to see if anyone had been privy to his blunder. The sign read 'CLOSED' in a most stark and hateful red. Pete sighed and rested his forehead against the door.

_Of course. Ofcourseofcourseofcourse._

He twisted his wrist and studied his watch. The time was 7:22 a.m. and the street lamps were slowly blinking out one-by-one in the brackish mist. There was still time to figure out…something. One of Pete's admirable qualities, one he did not recognize in himself, was that the boy was incredibly steadfast. He did not give up easily and was resolute in even the most mundane of tasks.

Pete walked around the side of the building and into the still dark alley. Along the brick walls were splintered wooden creates, a festering dumpster, and dented metal trash cans that appeared to have been abused for well over a decade of service. Pete wet his lips nervously and wrung his hands as he inspected the stack of crates. Should he find some jars back here he could just take them. If they were in the alley piled next to the dumpster it wasn't really stealing… he could always bring them back later and buy something better (and cleaner) after school. Yes.

Decided, Pete pulled down the topmost crate careful to avoid the jagged slivers of wood along the sides and peered inside. There was an array of old sale flyers, half full quart cans of wood stain, paint brushes with split bristles, and other useless junk. No containers or masson jars as he had hoped. Pete ran his eyes over the rest of the crates and examined their insides through the slits in the boards discovering that they too were all filled with nothing helpful.

He moved over to the row of pitiable trash cans. No sooner had Pete lifted the warped lid off of the first when a boxy, breaded, and altogether grubby man shambled out of nowhere and said "Hey you! Get away from my stuff!"

Startled, Pete dropped the garbage can lid and it clattered to the ground causing a deafening metallic clang to ring throughout to cobblestone alleyway which only served to intensify the situation.

"I'm sorry," Pete said and he meant it. The shabby hobo stepped closer to the boy and stared at him, his head moving back and forth as if he were spying something far away rather than a few feet ahead of him.

"Hn. Thought it was another one of them bandit raccoons or their cohorts those ratfink o-possums- tricky thieving bastards. But it's just a dinky little girl." said the man dismissively.

"I'm not a girl!" Pete shrieked not unlike one and right away tried to keep his cool like a man but it was too little too late and the old man laughed at him.

"Yeah?" the hobo asked craning his neck ever forward. "Then why you wearing pink?"

"Well why are YOU wearing pink?" Pete countered. It was a lame offset but the ball was back in the hobo's court. The old man scratched his chin through a beard like a nettle patch and then plucked at his tattered shirt which was indeed, at one time, pink.

He said "S'good color."

"Agreed," said Pete.

"Hey kid, did you know that pink… is a symbol- that it means red for blood and white for purtty." The old man pronounced purity like purr-tee but Pete knew what he meant.

"I did know that," he said. "It also simulates joy and energy."

"Well I got lots o' that in my life!" shouted the hobo as he threw his scabbed and calloused hands toward the sky. He was not being sarcastic. Pete wished his could share the same sentiments but he stayed quiet and smiled politely. High on life the hobo twirled around in a slow circle, almost fell over, and, laughing, pointed a finger at Pete. "Joy and energy is good, real good, but you know what the best thing pink is?"

Pete knew so he said "love."

"Love." The hobo confirmed. He let out a breathy exhale and stumbled backwards to sit on one of the crates Pete had been sifting through. "C'mere and sit for a minute, kid."

Pete did as he was told, sitting on the ground and hugging his knees to his chest.

The old hobo fished around in his raggedy coat pocket and pulled out a bottle wrapped in an equally raggedy brown paper bag. He shrugged to tell Pete that he didn't have anything to offer him and Pete put up his hands to tell him that it was alright.

"Let an old man tell you something about love, kid."

Pete shifted uncomfortably but stayed where he was.

"Love… now love ain't like T.V. Love ain't stories, stories is based off love. Love is great and wonderful and wonderful and great. It can make you fly in the sky or sink in the seas. Love is a good thing, always, but love ain't always kind." The old man paused to take a swig of his bottle. "You ever been in love, kid?"

"No," Pete said honestly.

"Pwuh. Liar."

"No, it's true," Pete persisted defensively.

The hobo took another drink and said "You just don't know that you're in love."

"Ridiculous," said Pete and he rose to his feet no longer caring if he was being rude. The man snatched Pete's left wrist with his empty hand. Pete very nearly cried out but that would have been girly so he stayed silent and scared.

"Listen here," said the old hobo sternly. "Love ain't always butterflies and sweet dreams. Often times a man don't even know he is in love till he's in too deep and don't know how to swim! See kid… sometimes love can take you to unfamiliar waters…" He let go of Pete's arm. "…take you to someone you never thought you would love or someone who the world says you can't love."

Pete swallowed and put a hand over his mouth as a million questions rose up in his throat like rejected cherry cough syrup. Why are you telling me this? How do you know? Are you talking about homosexuals? Have you mistaken me for one? Pete settled on simply asking "What do you mean?"

"Think a minute," the Hobo explained as he scratched the side of his nose and studied Pete's body language. "Think, is there someone in that fancy school o' yours that you don't really know if you like or not? Someone you think about so often you get mad at them or yer'self?"

Pete thought about everyone he had made acquaintance with during his short time at Bullworth. Well, there was Zoe, of course, who was full of life and bursting with healthy drive. Beatrice, the nerd girl whom he had helped complete everyone's English assignments yesterday. She was beautiful when she cried. He had met Ms. Phillips, his art instructor, briefly in the halls. She was so much taller, older, and perfect that she was miles away even at a foot away. Ricky, who had been such a jerk he wasn't even worth mentioning.

And then there was Gary. He had problems and was unbelievably detached from the crowd without somehow being ignorant. He had deep eyes that had seen a lot of bad yet a mouth that spoke a lot of good. The possibilities that Gary had presented Pete and Zoe with beneath the apple tree seemed endless. Pete wondered if Gary had woken up on his own. He wondered if Gary had noticed his absence; he hoped so. He wondered if Gary had found the note he had left telling him where he had gone and why. He wondered what class Gary had first today. He wondered if it was Art 1.

The hobo cleared his throat.

Pete lost his train of thought and saw the old man grinning at him through yellowed and broken teeth.

"Love, kid. Love."

Pete sucked in a breath, he cheeks turned pink and his eyes saw red as what the homeless cupid was implying raced through his brain. It just couldn't be. Everything about the scenario was wrong. Wrong person, wrong time, wrong place. It was sick. It was confusing. It was possible.

Pete slowly closed his eyes and exhaled as he accepted what he was feeling. As if he didn't hate himself enough already.

The hobo polished off his spirits with one last gurgling guzzle.

"Like I done said, it ain't always kind."

After that was said the man and the boy stood in silence until the jingling bell of the hardware store door disrupted the quiet.

"I gotta go buy some stuff," Pete said dumbly.

"You'll get through it kid. You might just end up like me but you'll get through it."

Pete turned and walked out of the shadows of the alley and into the new dawn sunlight of the sidewalk.

"Oh, and kid?"

Pete turned back around.

"Real men wear pink."

* * *

There were already two customers in Spazz Hardware despite the fact that the store had only been open for a few minutes and they were both Greasers. One of them was Ricky Pucino who was ogling the hand tool wall. The other was very portly and busied himself with the twenty-five cent charity gumball machine by the cash register.

Pete said a silent prayer for invisibility and swiftly swiped three glass jars that were identical to the ones he had given to Gary and moved toward the checkout. He willed the wooden floor not to squeak with every mousy step. Pete wanted nothing more then to just take the jars, throw some money over his shoulder, and run- screw the change. But the world didn't work that way and he was Peter Kowalski after all so irony just loved kicking him in the balls.

"Well, well, if it ain't little pinky Clyde who was on cloud nine in English yesterday."

Pete clenched his jaw and then turned to face Ricky who was gingerly twirling a ratchet between his fingers.

"It's not that I think you care either way, but my name is Pete."

"You're right, I don't care. Instead hows about you tell me the name of that fream who split before the bell?"

Pete began to take steps backward. He would rather just forget the jars, face any wrath Ms. Phillips might rain on him for unpreparedness, and call the entire morning a complete loss then sell out Gary to the Greaser Clique. Pete went to turn away from Ricky and softly collided with the stomach of the chubby Greaser who had moved to block his escape.

"Heh, Good goin', Hal," said Ricky as he closed the gap between the three of them.

Hal put a hand on Pete's shoulder and gave it a painful squeeze. "Better start singin', tiny bones," he said.

"Argh, I'm not telling," Pete hissed through clenched teeth. It took all of his strength not to drop the jar or try to wriggle in Hal's grasp.

Ricky slapped the ratchet in his hand portentously but Pete only winced and still would not give a name. Then karma cut Pete a break and the store owner returned from the back room and eyed each boy suspiciously from behind the counter.

"Oy, you kids better be buyin' that stuff or else go back to school."

Hal let go of Pete's shoulder and gave him a little shove. Ricky cradled the ratchet longingly before returning it to its proper sales peg. He gave Pete one last withering look before opening the door to leave.

"Youse best tell that guy to watch out. I told Johnny about his antics and we're gonna get even so stay outta the way unless you wanna get hurt." Then the two Greasers exited the store in the self important strut their faction was famous for.

Pete sighed in relief and placed the glass jars on the counter. He paid for them and, his business concluded, left the store. The sun was now high in the sky and the town had awoken. Businessmen and housewives were combing the streets looking for the next place to make a buck and spend a buck respectively. A police officer was walking the beat as well.

Pete watched with bated breath as the cop suddenly broke into a run. It was just like in the movies and he glanced around to see if someone was robbing a bank or stealing a woman's purse or something. But he saw nothing out of the ordinary.

"Stay right where you are you little malingerer!"

Pete whipped his head back around and his breath hitched has he realized that the cop was coming for him. Without another thought he ran off with blinding speed as if he were being chased by an ax murderer and not a keeper of the peace. Pete spared a glance over his shoulder and saw the officer shaking his fist at him and also that he was losing ground.

Pete wondered, as he ran, why he had fled in the first place. He was just going to get into bigger trouble for having chosen to run. He'd seen all the police shows and he knew what happened to people who got caught.

But Pete wasn't going to get caught. He pivoted onto an unpopular footbridge that mercifully ended right at the school gates. It was rickety and it was entirely possible that it would collapse and send Pete into the ocean far below. Against all odds it held strong and Pete made it across and back onto campus panting and wheezing.

Dragging his sleeve over his forehead Pete began stumbling toward the Main Building, his cheeks still pink from exertion, but had to stop. With a shaky hand he grasped the inhaler in his pocket and brought to his mouth in a desperate bid for air. After a minute or two of gulping down air he was stable and he looked inside his shopping bag to see if any of the little jars had gotten broken or chipped while he was running. None of them had had not. Pete looked behind himself to see if the cop was still chasing him. He wasn't. Pete checked the time on his watch to see if he was late for class. It was Nine fifteen so he wasn't.

Pete genuinely smiled and pumped his fist into the air, full of win.

* * *

Zoe's clunky boots clopped down the mahogany stair case and her hand drifted along the cherry wood banister as she hurried out of the Girl's dormitory. The building was second only to Harrington House in opulence and was seventy five percent new. The multimillion dollar addition was a gift from new student Pinky Gauthier to herself. At the last possible second Pinky had decided that she would rather reside with her own gender in the dorms then with her own class in the Preppy Frat House so construction began at once to bring Bullworth's Girl's dorms up to the Prep Princess' standards.

Because Pinky began making over the dorm so near to the start of the school year cosmetic construction was still underway. Today the walls were to be washed with the fourth of an estimated seven coats of strawberry rose paint. Mrs. Peabody refused to allow the Blue Skies Construction men into the dorm while there was a single girl within and thus they were only permitted to work during class hours.

So work was slow.

Pinky was angry.

Zoe did her utmost to avoid Pinky but there she was at the foot of the stairs stamping around in her Aquaberry slippers and shooing the other girls out the front door.

"Hurry up! Move it! Get out of my dorm so they can paint it already! YEESH." Apparently the entire dormitory was now property of Pinky since her Daddy had renovated it and hardly anyone argued with her because they found the affluent splendor both overwhelming and to their liking.

Lola Lombardi did not share either of those sentiments and had told Pinky Gauthier as much rather rudely when the female students had been introduced to their humongous new dormitory. A standoff had ensued. Girls didn't know whether to side with Pinky who was rich and had provided everyone with five star living quarters or with Lola who was cool and possessed a certain charisma that they all aspired towards themselves.

Zoe herself had set the curve by siding with Lola. It wasn't that Zoe had had any love for Lola who had previously just been a casual acquaintance in town; it was just that Pinky associated with Tad Spencer. That was more than enough reason to side with New Coventry's gypsy over The Vale's princess.

The rich do not forgive the poor for being poor and defiantly do not forgive the poor who didn't know their place. So Zoe could not be forgiven for rolling her eyes and deflating as she entered Pinky's presence.

"YOU!" Pinky shouted and pointed an impeccably manicured finger at Zoe.

"Me," said Zoe as she descended the last stair.

"Right! Zoe Taylor do NOT touch my handrails, I just had them polished. Also, get out." With that Pinky clapped her hands twice and pointed toward the exit.

Zoe directly bent toward her left and licked the banister, achieving a full foot of saliva coverage. Screw germs and screw preppy Pinky Gauthier.

Pinky screamed and Zoe took off giggling manically before Peabody could swoop in. As soon as she burst outside she composed herself and adopted an ordinary walk least the Prefects know she had engaged in mischief or fun of any kind. Her smile remained on her lips.

Zoe loved getting a rise out people; loved seeing their surprised and ridiculous faces. She loved walking past the Prefects and smiling innocently as they suspected nothing and then giggling some more when they were gone. She loved the crowded courtyard and hurrying along with everyone else as they all filed toward the Main Building for morning classes. She loved just being at school and Zoe found herself coming to a stop as all of this sank in.

Zoe Taylor was Zoe Taylor, scrappy punk from Blue Sky's Trailer Alley. Her boots were large and her hair was red. She hated the structure of Bullworth and of all the world too. Everyone was two dimensional but she was 3D, real, and so was a tragic figure because of it. Isn't that the picture she had painted for the boys under the tree last night? The one she had been crafting since age eleven? That was who she was- who she wanted to be… right?

But, no.

Zoe Taylor was a closet romantic who loved school and generally enjoyed being in the company of the other teens. There were people she liked and people who irritated the piss out her and she had yet to meet even a quarter of the student body. It kept life interesting and every day new.

The nine o'clock bell rang and Zoe resumed her walk toward the Main Building feeling figuratively naked. She could never tell anyone, least of all Gary Smith, what she now believed to be the case; that she was truly happy to be at Bullworth and wished that their rebellion wasn't necessary.

But it was.

As long as Tad Spencer and his ilk lived and breathed it was.

* * *

The alarm clock had been buzzing for some time now and Gary finally swatted it off of the night table. He blinked and sat up scratching the back of his head. It was light out and the sun through the blinds hurt Gary's eyes and made him see spots. Pink spots. God, he fucking hated that color.

_continued_.


	7. The How & The Why

Dear You,

I LIVE. I'm humbled that Bully fans continue to reach for this fic. Yes, I have every intention of continuing Gary's story. Yes, life has given me hardships. I am without a proper computer and am trying to rescue chapter 7 from a virus stricken hard drive. My fandom for Bully is as strong as if ever it was. Know that.

In response to one GarySmithFan, if you feel inclined to make a donation, you may do so through paypal to cloakofgreyclouds . If you just want to contact me, feel free to do that too.

Thanks for hanging in there and here's to chapter seven.


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